Mass Effect Infection
by BlackBox Inc
Summary: After a science expedition gone wrong Liara T'soni finds herself stranded on a planet crawling with flesh eating creatures.  Her only salvation lies in a man who is being haunted by more than just his past.
1. Chapter 1

**WARNING!  
><strong>This fanfiction may not be suitable for all audiences, viewer discretion is advised

Blackbox Incorporated presents…

A ReppinOrphanTears24 Production…

With special thanks to Bioware who owns everything in the Mass Effect Universe…

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

**PROLOGUE**

In 2022, after nearly a decade of warfare, the empire of man has crumbled and fallen. The attack came swiftly and merciless and consumed the globe in a fury matched only by the gods themselves. Very few remain to show that on the third planet from the star, Sol, there was a civilization of peoples with infinite potential. Sadly, it was that potential which destroyed them.

Elsewhere, the mighty and powerful galactic government called the Citadel Council, has finished fighting a war of attrition against a feral insectoid species called the Rachni. Instead of retreating behind the massive Mass Relay constructs and cowering in fear over more exploratory expeditions similar to the one that unleashed the Rachni, the Council has decreed that in the effort of Galactic stability, any and all threats to the sovereignty and safety of Citadel space with be met head on to provide further warning and prevent more loss of life.

It wasn't soon after that a Salarian exploratory probe discovered a relay hanging on the fringe of what was deemed the Local Cluster, due to its close proximity to the Citadel. The probe activated and went through the relay, thawing out the relay's hidden sister in low orbit of a astral body.

The probe went further into the solar system, mapping the planets and their moons until finally coming to live manifestation of the Garden of Eden.

News spread quickly across citadel space of a new beautiful planet, ripe for colonization. But what was really exciting were the various ruins scattered over nearly every square inch of the planet.

Plans were quickly drawn up to investigate the small blue-green planet, but no one knew exactly when they would send people there to find out who this lost civilization was.

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Earth  
>Location Unknown<br>Date Unknown**

The room was dark. The only illumination came from a small flickering candle on an equally small fold up table, causing shadows to jump and dance across the rust colored walls. The candle was small and threw no light farther than a one meter radius. Any areas not touched by the light were engulfed in darkness.

A lone figure sits, just outside the candle's radius, with legs crossed and hands held in a meditative manner. The figure seems to be uttering something under its breath but it is too low and comes off as incomprehensible mumblings.

A soft beeping interrupts the figure who opens his once closed lids to reveal a matching set of sea colored eyes that in the light can come across as a mild electric blue.

It's brows furrow as it glances at the waterproof sports watch slapped across its wrist. It absentmindedly shuts off the beeper and stands, licking its thumb and pointer finger before extinguishing the small candle's flame.

Darkness takes over the room instantly. Before it can be more unbearable, the figure opens a metallic shutter covering a nearby window to let in warm illuminating rays of the rising sun.

The figure, now to be a man, takes in a deep breath of morning air.

The man's face is covered by a spade shaped beard that falls halfway to his chest. His hair is even longer, falling across his shoulders in tightly tied dreadlocks. The only parts of his face visible are his electric eyes that seem to take more in a quick glance that other people would need several minutes of gazing to comprehend, and his slim nose that appears to have been recently broken and reset.

He takes a step back from the window allowing more light to shine upon his bare upper torso, save for a glittering set of dog tags that, now visible, look scratched a burned or otherwise damaged. All across his neck, back, chest, stomach, arms and wrists and various scars each ranging from three parallel or single scratch marks, to more smaller circular ones that are no bigger that an American quarter, and finally to frightening jagged ones most commonly associated with bite victims. Each one's ghastly appearance is amplified by the amateur stitch job the man had must have done himself.

The man turns a full 180 degrees from the window and exits a now illuminated 'safe' room which is adorned with deactivated monitors and a single table adjacent to a lone mini refrigerator.

The man proceeds down a small hallway, glancing slightly upwards at a motion security camera that follows him as he enters another darkened room.

The man enters and repeats his previous action of opening a metal shutter, although this one covering a bay window.

Now exposed to the suns light, the room reveals itself to be an elaborate work out facility composed of weights, a boxer's heavy bag, a rowing machine, and a treadmill. The wall to the left of the door is decorated by mirrors that present a backwards world for the man to watch next to the flat screen television hanging nearby.

The man passes the work out equipment and stands before a radio. He leans down and grasps the musical device waiting patiently in the radio's port and shuffles through the various menus until coming to the playlist he had chosen for today. The sounds of heavy rock and roll echo in the small room not much later.

The man continues turning the TV on to be welcomed by an episode of sports center, albeit on pause. The man pushes play and mute in quick succession before heading to the treadmill. He starts off with a brisk trot before evolving into a steady jog, expertly keeping his breathing under control, his dog tags swaying back and forth with each plant of his foot. Although the top of the screen reads live, the man seems to be able to follow what the anchors are saying as they say it.

An hour later and now covered in sweat, the man turns off the treadmill successfully completing his five mile run. He waits for the treadmill to slow to a crawl before jumping off and turning the radio off. The silence in the room is interrupted as the man un-mutes the television, audibly paying attention to a quarterback announce his plan to stay in the NFL as the Minnesota Vikings new staring quarterback.

The man laughs as his begins pushing his body through a series of work out techniques with a pair of matching dumbbells.

"Shoulda' stayed retired," the man comments, he voice sounding raspy in its early hour state.

After another hour of work outs utilizing the row machine and a lifting bench, the man walks over to the dumbbell rack and puts on a set of boxing trainer's gloves. He calmly approaches the heavy bag dangling from the ceiling, it swaying ever so slightly in harmony to the rotation of the earth.

The man proceeds with the final stage of his work out, putting the heavy bag through a series of beatings that would kill a normal man, using a variation of mixed martial arts and marine hand to hand combat.

Finally done with his morning exercise, the man shuts off the TV, the lights and window, in that order before exiting into the hallway, the motion camera capturing every second of it.

The watch on his wrist sounds off again alerting the man to the next objective of his morning routine.

Jumping into the shower, the man lathers every inch of his body, even taking a few precious seconds to appreciate the luke-warm water running over his nude body.

Done with his shower, the man heads to the adjoining room. This next room is completely unlike the others. Where before it was obvious the man had put productivity before comfort, this room is the polar opposite.

A Spartan bed sits near the entrance face horizontal with the door frame, flanked on one side by a nightstand adorned with a lamp, a book titled _Anarchist's Cook Book_ and finally the most out of place item, a 9mm handgun, with a pump-action 12 gauge shotgun leaning close by. On the other side is another nightstand decorated solely by a clock radio that shows in bright green numbers the time, 8:45 am. Resting above it is a historical painting of Napoleon's battle at Waterloo

The man passes by the bed to another desk that faces the bed completely. It is adorned with pictures and medals as well as another flat screen TV although this one is a full five inches larger than its counterpart in the exercise room.

The man stops abruptly, his eyes catching a single picture from all the rest.

The picture displays three soldiers, two male, one female, in full body armor usually present on all combat soldiers. Their matching red and black berets obscured slightly by the burning cigars held proudly between their lips as they rest upon a destroyed Iranian tank. Their arms are wrapped around each other in an uncompleted group hug as they smile for whoever is taking the picture.

The man smiles at the memory, his eyes catching another picture frame holding a red patch with a black center, the symbols N7 and crisscrossing rifles displayed in white.

He stands fully upright and resumes his interrupted routine, arriving at a slide open closet. The man is present with a pathetic array of clothing, all the same type. All shirts are long sleeved and black or are just regular white tees. All the pants are loose fitting blue jeans with several sets of black leather steel tipped boots. Even more, hanging nearby as if a common sight in ones closet are a gas mask, a worn leather trench coat, and two pairs of Kevlar vests, one painted for desert environments, the other for a more urban setting.

Most notable is an all black skin tight bodysuit, which is the first thing the man puts on. Although similar to what a diver would wear in shark infested waters, the man's appears to be more flexible and customized with tear resistant Kevlar webbing.

After the bodysuit, the man adorns himself with a pair of blue jeans, a white tee, and a set of boots. Before sliding the closet closed, the man slings the urban Kevlar vest and trench coat over his shoulder and exits the room.

The man enters the same hallway from before and begins walking towards its end. He once again is interrupted when his gaze locks onto a door that looks like it hasn't been opened in years. One the door hangs a pink porcelain unicorn with a cartoonish smile. His hand grasps the handle but he does not open it. Instead he stands there, his breath growing short, and his hands getting sweaty as he mentally debates whether or not to open the door.

Finally he lets go of the handle and continues down the hallway to its end, coming to a T intersection. The man takes a right, passing a sturdy metal door that appears as if it belongs guarding a stash of gold or other pricless valuables, before ending up in a kitchen.

The kitchen is nearly spotless with its white tiles and matching cupboards, refrigerator and counters. The same as before, the windows are all covered with metal shutters to which the man opens.

Among the appliances decorating the counters include a coffee maker, a toaster, a microwave, and toaster oven. In the immaculate stainless steel sink sits the man's plates from the previous night, a bit of residue from the meal still clinging the plate and a few drops of whatever he was drinking stuck at the bottom of a clear glass. The man unloads his vest and coat onto one side of the table. He walks over to a cupboard and opens it retrieving a box of oatmeal and a bowl. He opens the drawer directly underneath it revealing various sets of forks, knives, and spoons. Standing out among them all is a .45 caliber handgun.

The man grabs a spoon and closes the drawer. He opens the box of oatmeal, pouring its contents into the bowl. He leans over to the sink and turns on the faucet. A loud groaning nose rumbles through the entire house. The man seems unconcerned and proves his reaction the correct one as crystal clean purified water streams from the faucet into the oatmeal filled bowl.

With his breakfast nearing completion the man places the bowl into the microwave. He checks the box for the correct amount of time he must cook it for and sets the microwave accordingly. The microwave turns on with a hum and the man leans backwards onto the table as he waits patiently for his breakfast to finish heating.

Smacking his head as if he forgot something, the man trots the short distance over to the fridge and produces a small container of fresh strawberries.

The triple beep of the microwave indicated to the man that his oatmeal was done. Opening the door to the microwave the man was gifted by a wave of hot steam. Using his shirt to dull the heat between his hands and the bowl, the man quickly places the bowl onto the table next to the strawberries. Finally ready to eat, the man adds his choice of fruit and begins to eat.

After breakfast, the man places his dishes in the sink after filling it up with water to loosen the food residue and puts the remaining strawberries in the fridge.

He returns the way he came but this time stopping at the broad metallic door. He pulls away a picture a man woman and child posing for a family picture to reveal a hidden keypad. He punches in the appropriate code and the door opens with an audible pop.

The man opens the door fully and descends a flight of stairs into darkness, counting each step he takes softly to himself.

Going more by instinct and memory than sight, the man reaches the bottom. He fumbles along the wall for a moment before his hand finds the light switch. Flipping it on, the room he has now entered in slowly reveals itself to be a basement as each light flicked on, one by one.

When all lights present have turned on the man takes a look around the basement which has been split in two by a large white sheet. The one side he can see is adorned with state of the art medical equipment including an operating table, I.V.s, surgical equipment, an EKG heart rate monitors, a cabinet of various types of blood contained in glass phylacteries, and another cabinet filled with tweezers, scissors, several rolls of thread, a clothing iron, various sizes of gauze bandages, hypodermic needles, rubbing alcohol, a bone saw (which thankfully looks as if it hasn't been used yet), and various other medical utensils one would find in either a hospital or med-kit. Standing proud by the operating table is a bio-hazard trash bin.

He walks by all of it, stopping only when he realizes that he seems to be running low of several different types of vials marked MORPHINE. He curses and proceeds past the sheet.

He is greeted with an armory. A couple of assault rifles, a mean looking sniper, several handguns, an assortment of shotguns of different lengths, and a grenade launcher. The weapons are all displayed on the wall, hanging from hooks, their corresponding attachments and spare part sitting under them in perfect order, the ammunition stacked neatly in the drawers and on shelves.

On an adjacent metal cabinet rest several the explosives ranging from grenades to claymores, 20mm HE rounds to homemade Molotov cocktails. The display of firepower would make any sane person shudder and any other smile with glee. To his left is another desk that is covered in tapes and other video appliances. Each is marked by a certain date with a black marker.

The man selects an assault rifle first, grabbing three banana magazines and tapes the magazines together. He then attaches a laser dot scope and grabs an extra box of extra ammo. Utilizing the strap hanging from the stock to the beginning of the barrel, the man slings the rifle over his shoulder and puts the clips and box into a duffel bag.

Next he grabs a leather harness and straps it around his torso like a vest. He then snags two identical sawed off shotguns, placing the in them in the holsters attached to the leather vest. He grabs a bandolier and begins placing 12 gauge shells into the slots spread along the width of it. Finished, he places the bandolier into the duffel bag as well.

He then straps two, smaller holsters to each thigh and places a 9mm handgun in the right and a .44 magnum six shooter in the left. He takes four clips of previously prepared 9mm rounds into the bag along with a box of .44 rounds as well.

After that is completed, he reaches down and opens a drawer. Inside rests a machete in a leather sheath. He takes it and attaches it to the small of his lower back horizontally, tightening it so there is no unwanted movement. He then places four fragmentation grenades into the holsters provided on his vest.

Finally done arming himself, he picks up the duffel bag and places it on the counter.

He turns his attention to a small camera sitting nearby. He walks over and turns it, flipping the view screen vertically so it now faced him. He plays with the positioning a little before satisfied with the camera's placement and pushing the record button.

The camera silently records as the man pulls up a chair and sits down, clearing his throat.

"My name is John Shepard," the man introduced, "today is the 6th of March in the year 2032. I am 42 years old, and I was born in the year 1990 on this very date… making today my birthday."

The man's eyes dart away from the camera, glazing over slightly in remembrance.

"I remember my wife Gianna would always through me these little kid's parties, ya' know, cakes, balloons, pointy party hats. My daughter Ellie would always…"

The mention of his daughter causes Shepard to stop mid sentence. He looks as if he were to shed tears, for a moment, before shaking head, looking as if he flipped a mental switch, returning to normal.

"Let me start over," he said clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, "My name is John Shepard, I was born 42 years go in Des Moines, Iowa. I had a wife named Gianna, a daughter named Elizabeth. My father's name was Jim, my mother's was Hannah and my sister Jane. They were farm people… I hope… that someday if someone finds these taps, you will know what I've tried… _am trying_, to do…"

Shepard looks like he's about to zone out again before his eyes snapped over to the camera with lightning speed, replacing the old one with a look akin to a predator.

"I think I killed eight yesterday…"

_**Author's Note:  
>So, here we are, sorry for the long chapter. I don't know if they will all be this long but I am sure that I will be updating either once a week or bi-weekly.<strong>_

_**Next chapter will introduce our other major character.**_

_**I'm sure you can all guess who Gianna is. I needed someone to fill the role as Shepard's wife and she seemed to fit. Don't worry, she'll make an appearance later. Elizabeth, Ellie, is an OC.**_

_**I made Shepard from Iowa b/c a writer here is an avid Star Trek fan, much to my annoyance, an I promised that I'd throw a shout out somewhere in this chapter.**_

_**Many of you are probably confused on what the fuck is going on… don't worry, you'll find out.**_

_**So long everyone and stay tuned for ME Infection Chapter Two!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

A special thanks to all those who have reviewed and/or favorite this story  
>Mass Effect and its entirety belong to Bioware.<p>

**CHAPTER TWO**

It was hot today, as it was everyday on Therum, a planet whose equator was covered by active volcanoes and ruined architecture. Despite its hellish look, the planet masked a certain beauty. A beauty found only in nature, a beauty that can either give life or take it.

Liara T'Soni wiped the sweat from her brow with her un-sleeved forearm. Like many of the races on the galactic stage save the turians, volus, and elcor, her people had evolved from simple aquatic beings, into the form they posses today. A few traits had, however, carried on through the generations of evolution. Excreting body water to maintain a certain core temperature was one of the many 'survive or die' traits her people needed to survive the transition faze from water to land.

Standing from an assortment of ancient Prothean pottery, Liara brushed the volcanic dirt from her hands and gazed upwards towards the sun of the Knossos System as it struggled to bypass the dark clouds of ash rising upwards from their lava producing mountains, giving the blue sky a black and yellow contrast.

Liara took a moment to appreciate the beauty before realizing that her lab coat was now utterly drenched in sweat. Turning away from the star, the 108 year old asari maiden made her way towards the chain of prefabricated trailers the archeology team was using to store gear and give themselves a decent place to rest their heads at the end of the day.

Excluding her, there were ten other researchers planet side and another two in orbit waiting on the ship that the Council Reclamation Committee was generous to provide.

The Council Reclamation Committee was founded before the Rachni Wars and shut down at its start. Fifty years ago, at the war's official end, it was started up again with the new mentality of discovering and preserving artifacts left behind by the Protheans after their mysterious disappearance.

Liara was just entering her maidenhood when the war that nearly vanquished all life in known citadel space, ended. She remembered not too fondly of her mother, the now Matriarch, Benezia, leaving to help fight. As the Commander of an Asari Commando division it was her duty, but it still left a child alone without its mother and when that happens, all the duty in the 'verse can't fill the hole it creates. Liara learned early on that she would need to look after herself and it must have been that drive, that mentality where she could depend on no one but herself, that spared her from the pole or the gun that most maidens go to in there early years. Instead, she became the youngest Asari in four generation to graduate from the University of Thessia, an achievement that went sadly unnoticed or unappreciated by her mother.

"Liara!"

The voice or her colleague and most trusted friend, stopped Liara midway to her pre-fab. Looking back, she saw another asari racing up to her.

Once she had arrived, Liara could tell that her fellow sister was out of breath but at the same time eager to relay whatever was so important that demanded her attention.

"We… we found… the cave…"

Liara placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, "Calm down Shiala. Allow yourself to catch your breath."

Shiala smiled, "of course," she panted as she slowly gobbled down the water Liara had presented her with.

"Now tell what had you running up to me as if you were being chased by wild varren."

Shiala pointed in the direction she came from, "we found something in the caves. It's massive; I don't think I have ever seen anything like it."

Liara followed her green tinted friend. As she walked she idly wondered why some asari would change their skin pigment. She herself prided on her body's natural blue tone. It was a testament to how she overcame the racist taunts she had received as a child.

Liara was what some call, a pure-blood, meaning that both her parents were asari, although no one she would consider a friend would call her that to her face. The name never existed before the asari made contact with another space faring civilization. It was only after, when mating between races became common, that asari culture began to look down upon asari-asari breeding, stating that no new genetic material would be gained from the union.

Liara forced herself not to snarl. Breeding or mating, as the 'experts' would call it, was not for new genetic material or to give back to society. It was for love. Knowing what it meant to be a lover, one half of a whole, was what it was all about. Happiness was deserved by all and meant for all.

"I know that look," Shiala interjected, interrupting Liara from her thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Liara asked puzzled.

"You were thinking about _him_, weren't you?"

Liara felt her cheeks heat up and it wasn't from the lake of lava no less than twenty yards away. Not for the first time, Liara was regretting telling her friend from the university about her date.

Shiala and Liara first met in the University, both vying for the same top spot in class. Liara's motivations were more innocent than her fellow asari. She was simply naturally good at her lessons. Shiala however, was gunning for the new spot opening up in the CRC and wanted to give as good as an impression as she could. It wasn't to anyone's surprise that she and Liara would bump heads, calling each other out in the middle of class, getting into heated debates on why the Protheans had disappeared, etc…

Then, out of no where, Liara received a call from the CRC asking if she wanted a spot on their new field archeologist team. Liara quickly said yes, but not before brokering a passage for Shiala to come along as well, fearing that the young maiden might actually go ahead with her back up plan that involved enlisting into the nearest Asari Commandos.

When asked on her motivations, Liara simply uttered that Shiala had natural ability when it came to field work and that if Liara was to go in, she wanted someone who she respected and knew would have her back. Shiala was surprised at first but realized that out of her heated rivalry with Liara grew a level of mutual respect that she hadn't realized was there.

Remembering this, Liara smiled knowing she made the right decision as the duo arrived to a massive cave opening.

"Inside," Shiala instructed, allowing her omni-tool's flashlight to turn on, illuminating the dark enclosing spaces of the cavern.

The two traveled onwards for what seemed an eternity, Liara bumping her head, or tripping over some unseen stalagmites every meter or so. Soon it became too much.

"How much further?" she inquired.

"It's just up ahead," Shiala reassured, "trust me when I say you won't be disappointed."

True to her word, Liara was not disappointed. Finally clearing the cavern tunnel, the two asari came to a ledge over looking a great chamber buried under the mountain. Liara's jaw hung open as she took in the immense space. She was willing to bet that they could fit an entire Dreadnaught down there and still have room to move about. But that wasn't what held her interest.

It was the giant Prothean structure directly across from her.

The structure seemed to be a paragon of the Prothean engineering prowess. Even after 50,000 years it looked no worse for wear, even buried under a mountain of volcanic rock.

"The mountain must have formed around it over time…" observed Liara.

The building for lack of a better word was interspaced by oval, white tiled rooms that were illuminated by white florescent light. Below, she could see the three members of Shiala's team taking readings with their omni-tools.

Almost reading her thoughts, Shiala spoke, "the lights turned on by themselves. It was the damndest thing too. One second we were in the dark, using those high velocity torches, the next the whole structure lit up like a mass cannon. It was like the structure was reacting to our presence."

Liara was about to ask another question when suddenly her communicator began going off.

"This is Dr. T'Soni," greeted Liara.

"T'Soni, this is the Watching Eye, how copy?" was the curt reply.

Liara raised an eyebrow at that. The _Watching Eye_ was the vessel that the CRC had loaned them and was waiting in orbit. Standard procedure had it so they would call in every week to check in. Liara was curious since their last transmission was only three days ago. In between messages they would retain radio silence to keep under the radar from pirates or slavers.

A small group of scientists would certainly be easy pickings.

"Go ahead Watching Eye, what seems to be the trouble?" Liara asked.

"Don't really know Liara," replied the communicator, "but we just got a priority one call from the Citadel. It seems that your presence is required at HQ pronto-like."

Liara scoffed, "did you tell them I happen to be busy? We just discovered something big down here and I can't just walk away."

The person on the other chuckled slightly, "yeah, I told them. But they said, I quote, 'it is going to be worth your while' or something like that."

Liara sighed. Just when she got a big break, the Committee was going to pull her away. Whatever it was it had better be worth it. Liara wasn't a violent person, avoiding confrontation whenever possible, but even patient people have their limits.

"Very well, when's the pick up?"

"The frigate, _Thessia's Wrath_ will be here by the end of the solar day. I suggest you and Ms. Shiala get ready and packed."

And then the communicator was cut off. Liara turned to her friend.

"I'm guessing you heard that?" Liara asked.

"Yup," Shiala sighed, "too bad too. I was really curious on what secrets this place would uncover."

The two turned from their ledge and began heading they way they came. At first Shiala tried lighting the mood, talking about that new vid coming out called Fleet and Flotilla. She said that it was supposed to be good but she was rather looking forward to The Moon, which was about a small group of people trapped on a moon overrun by flesh eating aliens. Shiala admitted horror wasn't her thing but her favorite actress was in it and she was rumored to have a nude scene, which perked Shiala's interest immensely.

While Liara appreciated her friend trying to cheer her through witty banter, her mind was focused on other things.

Why would the Committee transfer her at a time like this? They had only been on the planet for a month. A normal expedition would last one to three years, depending on what was found. But even with only a month of digging, this place had proven to be a gold mine, not just in artifacts but the natural factor as well. This planet was ripe for colonization and since the CRC was the ones who discovered it, they could sell the rights to the Council Colonization Board which would in turn fund another expedition, then repeat.

Whatever had the CRC jumping nearly halfway across the galaxy just for her, must be important. Maybe it had to do with that-

A high pitched screech caused Liara's head to perk up, interrupting her thoughts. She knew that sound. Memories of her first expedition came flooding over her. The two asari shared a quick glance, their fears slowly becoming confirmed as more screeching and screaming began to fill the cavern they had just left.

The two turned on their heels and made a dash to the surface. On one occasion, Liara felt herself trip on an unseen pool off water, dripping from a stalactite hanging on the ceiling, only to find herself being caught at the last second by Shiala.

"Come on!"

The two ran faster. The sounds of screaming were soon overwhelmed by the murderous screeching and pitter patter of claws on rock. Soon it wasn't a far off noise. Now, it was behind them, and gaining.

Liara felt a wave of fear wash through her. She felt her heart rate quicken, her leg slowly becoming numb, and the sensation that her lungs were about to explode.

To this day, Liara would remain firm in that she had no idea what compelled her to turn her head and shine a light down the cavern tunnel. But she did just that and what she saw made her eyes grow wide in fear. She forced herself to ignore the pain in her chest and to quicken her movement.

"Shiala! They're-"

"I know!" interrupted the green asari maiden.

Finally, by the will of the goddess, a light appeared out the end of the tunnel. Judging by the burning sensation in her chest and the sting of her scuffed knee, Liara knew this was not the classic, light at the end of the tunnel, story associated with death but rather one of life. For once the two made it out of the cave, their odds of survival would increase dramatically.

The light grew closer but at the same time were the creatures chasing them.

Finally, like water bursting through a dam, the two passed the threshold of the cavern and into the light. But they did not stop running; they were not out of the woods yet.

"LICHEN!" Shiala yelled at the top of their lungs, alerting whatever personnel around to get the hell out of dodge, "get to the shed!"

Liara took another gaze upon the Lichen. Discovered back when it was just the Asari and Salarians occupying the citadel, the parasitic aliens were commonly mistaken for walking rocks. The creatures would hide in plain site, silently observing their prey. When a target would be selected they would give off a pungent pheromone to alert the rest of their hive. Although individually easy to kill, the fact that a hive of Lichen could number in the thousands would give anyone a moment of pause. The theory behind the Lichen appearing on a variety of diverse moons and planets was fairly similar to the Thresher Maws. Allegedly, they would laugh spores in the air, allowing the wind to carry them into the upper atmosphere. Those that broke the gravity well would travel until coming to a surface to thrive on. It seemed to be completely ridiculous and impossible, in Liara's opinion. The odds against something like that being successful were staggering. And yet, here they were. Nature had a way of defying the odds.

Liara, Shiala, and a couple Salarian scientists turned to their pre-fab settlement, just as a gruff turian stepped out with an assault rifle in his hands, blazing away on the horde.

The four ran past the turian, "Go, go, go!" he ordered, not ceasing to lay off the trigger. Now the area was ripe with Lichen screeching, the turian's rifle, the screaming of those unlucky enough to be behind the turian vigilante and the popping noise the Lichen made every time one would die.

Liara stopped at the entrance of the security trailer, a said excuse for a safe house in the event of a pirate or slaver attack since any determined enemy would break through easier than a hot knife through butter. She watched in horror as the Lichen swarmed the turian but soon switched to amazement as the turian's weapon overheated and he began using the weapon as a club. Liara remembered hearing that every turian had some sort of military training and were a highly disciplined race. There was a rumor that in battle you would never find a turian shot in the back. Whether that meant that they never lost or that it was concerning their martial discipline, she did not know. Whatever it meant it didn't account for shit when a swarm of Lichen were slowly eating you alive.

Liara slowly made her way from the pre-fab, Shiala standing at the door, her arm stretched out, begging Liara to come inside. But seeing an old turian stand his ground, sacrificing his life for people he didn't really know, made Liara angry. Almost as if her emotions manifest physically, a haze of blue biotic energy began to spiral around her. She stretched out her hand towards the horde and closed her eyes, uttering a short prayer to the goddess.

Her eyes snapped open and a wave of pure destruction flowed from her arm with the force of a level four hurricane. The first layer of the swarm was sent flying backwards. She let out another wave, and another, and another, drawing from every biotic nod and nerve ending in her body.

Just as her vision began to grow spotty, she felt someone join her side. In her peripheral vision, she saw Shiala standing next to her, arm set in a similar fashion as she too began to send pure biotic energy into the seemingly never ending wave of Lichen critters.

Finally, when it seemed as if the two could not continue any longer, the Lichen stopped advancing, preferring to stand just outside the two asari maiden's range, screeching in anger. Then, just as they appeared, they turned and scurried away.

Both asari rested their arms which had grown numb and needed a good massage, panting in exasperation.

"What…" was all Liara could utter.

"I guess even animals know not to stick their noses where it hurts," Shiala said with a bit of venom.

She looked over to Liara.

"So, how was your date?"

_**Author's Note:  
>Hello everyone and thank you for tuning in for another exciting chapter. Just a few things to point out… <strong>_

_**Lichen are something actually mentioned in the game (ME1) when you visit the planet overrun by Rachni. The alliance soldier, after asking what happened, admits the worse they had to deal with before were Lichen, in a nonchalant manner. I assume, that it, whatever it is in cannon, would be not trouble for a group of well trained marines. But a group of scientists?**_

_**If anyone has a problem with my adaptation let me know or if you figured out what they actually are. If anyone had seen Apollo 18, the Lichen I have created are based in appearance to the creatures the astronauts find. If you haven't seen Apollo 18… spoiler alert! (a little late sorry)**_

_**To answer another question, no, this is not Mass Effect meets I am Legend although I am Legend (book not movie) and 28 days later have helped inspire me.**_

_**So if have any opinions or if you want to give me advice on how to make this better than feel free to let me know, even if this story is still in its infancy.**_

_**Tune in next time for Mass Effect Infection: Chapter Three!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

Another shout out to those who have reviewed and offered advice, thank you. I am glad you are enjoying this so far.  
>Mass Effect and its entirety belongs to Bioware and EA<p>

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Earth  
>2032 A.D.<strong>

The camera sitting across from Shepard continued to record him.

Shepard looks like he's about to zone out again before his eyes snapped over to the camera with lightning speed, replacing the old one with a look akin to a predator.

"I think I killed eight yesterday…"

He breaks eye contact from the camera, his hand darting up to a scratch mark on his neck, an instinctive motion. The scar looks fresh and the bruise around it is a dark bluish purple, with a mix of yellow circling around the perimeter.

He shakes his head once more and turns the camera off. He bends over and grabs his duffle bag filled with ammo, weapons and explosives.

He exits his armory and passes through the med bay. He shuts off the lights and climbs the stairs, once more counting each step until he reaches the top.

He opens the door and freezes, his eyes staring down the barrel of a 9mm handgun. Behind it stands a beautiful woman. Her skin is a light tan, an homage to her Brazilian ancestry. Her eyes are a set of matching green-hazel orbs, hiding behind a full set of eyelashes that are devoid of any eye liner. Her black hair is tied into a bun, with a single strand falling over her right eye.

"What's this?" the woman asked rhetorically, "the great John Shepard caught off his guard? Tsk, tsk."

Shepard doesn't move, or raise his arms I surrender. In fact his reaction is more annoyed than frightened or startled.

"If you know of me then you should know I don't like people pointing weapons at me," he answered with authority and confidence.

Surprisingly the woman let out a full honest laugh, "Relax skipper, no need to be all serious."

Shepard's hand comes up and gently moved the pistol away from his face before shoving past her.

"So what's the plan for today?" the woman asked.

Shepard doesn't answer her. Instead he heads to the kitchen. He stops at the kitchen's threshold for a moment when he sees another person present.

This time it's a man. He sits in the exact same spot at the table where Shepard was sitting before, eating a bowl of oatmeal. His eyes, darting up to look at Shepard as he entered the room, have a slight slant to them, betraying a small hint of Asian ancestry. His black cropped up hair is slicked back, shining in the morning rays.

"Morning sir," the man greeted.

Shepard grunted, setting his duffel bag onto the ground and taking off the bandolier and leather vest that held his dual sawed off shotguns, "haven't you guys heard of a door bell?"

"We figured we'd give our old commander a surprise," commented the woman as she entered behind Shepard, "how long has it been skipper?"

Shepard doesn't answer. Instead, he dons his Kevlar vest, tightening the straps until it was both tight and comfortable. He throws on his bandolier full of 12 gauge shells so it now crisscrossed over his vest before grabbing the extra magazines of ammo from his bag and placing them in the various pockets adorning his Kevlar. He then straps on his leather vest, the twin sawed offs dangling from his upper back. After, he picks up his trench coat and slips it on, playing with the handles of the weapons on his back so that they stuck out through two matching holes that had been cut out at a previous point in time. Finally he slings the lighter duffel bag over his right shoulder and then his rifle over the other.

"I think it's been almost ten years now," the man seated at the table stated in a mocking manner in between bites, "Not really digging the new look by the way."

Shepard continues to ignore both of the people dressed in matching tanned camouflage BDUs, heading over to the fridge and retrieving a bottle of water. He heads over to the side of the table that was once covered by his equipment, pulling out a folded piece of paper.

Shepard unfolds it and reveals a map of the city. The words SAN FRANCISCO, CA, printed on the top. Spread across the entire area of the map there are various circles in blue. Several, around eighty percent, have red X marks drawn through the centers. Others have simple check marks.

Shepard pulls a blue marker from one of the many deep pockets of the trench coat. He sticks the top into his mouth, his teeth and lips forming tightly around it before pulling, leaving the actual marker's head open to the air, its top still stuck in Shepard's mouth.

He twists the marker around so now the ink head is facing the map sprawled on the table. His two "guests" watch patiently, the man continuing to eat, and the woman leaning against the kitchen's threshold with an amused expression on her face.

The marker passes over and occasionally stops over many areas of the city. He's about to circle one area when the woman audibly clears her throat, interrupting Shepard.

"You did section 8 last week, if you don't recall," she instructed him as if correcting a child.

Shepard doesn't acknowledge her comment but proves that he was listening to her when his marker continues to skim over the map.

"You did section 14 as well," interrupted the man sitting across from Shepard, "and 21," he quickly added.

Shepard forcefully throws down the marker, his eyes full of anger and annoyance as they dart up to meet both the man's and the woman's.

"Alright," he began trying to calm down, "what do you want?"

A smiled formed across the woman's full sensual pink lips, a move not going unnoticed by Shepard, "Common skipper, can't two people simply pay a visit to a man they followed for nearly five years?"

Shepard scoffs and shakes his head, "You have to do better than that."

This time the man speaks, "we're here to help Shepard. We want to help."

Shepard folds up his map, "you want to help?"

He walks to the front door, pulling several metal locks off and opening it, "you can help by leaving."

The man and woman exchange glances and head over to the open door. The woman is first to exit, not even glancing at Shepard as she passes by but allowing her hand to skim across his chest in a seductive manner. The man however stops just at the entrance.

"We're here to help you Shepard, like it or not. You let us know when you need us. We won't be far away," the man said before he too leaves the premises.

Shepard slams the door shut, replacing the locks he had previously taken off and storms back into the kitchen. He heads to fridge and opens the freezer.

Inside the freezer is a dwindling supply of steaks, frozen dinners, and heads back into the T hallway.

Passing by the corridor that leads to his bedroom, safety room, work out facility, and the door with the porcelain unicorn, continuing straight ahead. He passes by a clear sliding glass door that leads into an indoor greenhouse full of vegetable plants and comes to another simple wooden door. He opens it to find himself in the garage.

Inside sits three vehicles. A military Humvee, a vintage red ford mustang, and a Kawasaki blue and gold motorcycle that sit in perfect parade rest. He comes to the Humvee and heads to the trunk.

The Humvee itself has been modified. The roof, hood, doors and trunk are crisscrossed with barbed wire. All windows, save for the windshield are covered in thick metal sheets. Thin slits are cut into each of them, but visibility is poor.

Shepard opens the trunk and dumps his duffel bag inside. Before he closes it he looks at the inside and sees a box full of tools, a spare tire, two gallons of gasoline and a simple double barreled shotgun. He closes the trunk and opens the driver's side door, placing both his AK47 and the vile bag on the passenger's side seat. He climbs in behind the wheel and closes the door.

The inside of the vehicle contains extra medical supplies, a lunchbox with two days worth of food and water, high intensity flashlights with extra batteries, an multi-fire capable assault rifle with two extra mags, lamps, rope, wire and tools.

He flips the visor down, catching a pair of sunglasses as they fell. He puts them on and flips the visor back up. To his right sits a computer he had built into the passenger's side dashboard. It shows a live feed from cameras on all four sides of the humvee. His eyes find a square box hanging on the windshield to the left of the rear-view mirror. He pushes one of the two buttons present on it and the garage door opens before him, albeit horizontally instead of vertically.

The sunlight pours into the garage causing Shepard to sigh.

"Same shit, different day."

The humvee roars to life and pulls out of the garage, the door closing behind it.

**Therum  
>2032 C.E.<strong>

Finally, when it seemed as if the two could not continue any longer, the Lichen stopped advancing, preferring to stand just outside the two asari maiden's range, screeching in anger. Then, just as they appeared, they turned and scurried away.

Both asari rested their arms which had grown numb and needed a good massage, panting in exasperation.

"What…" was all Liara could utter.

"I guess even animals know not to stick their noses where it hurts," Shiala said with a bit of venom.

She looked over to Liara.

"So, how was your date?"

Liara looked over at Shiala and laughed, both doubting what they had just done. The other survivors from the expedition slowly appeared tentatively from the safety of the safe house pre-fab and began to look around, disbelieving recent events as well.

An hour later the survivors had rustled up the remains of those killed by the Lichen, or at least what remains could be found. Liara found herself standing over the turian that had stood his ground. She prided herself on remembering people's names but drew a blank when it came to the alien before her. To give her thanks, Liara closed her eyes and uttered a short prayer to the turian spirits so he would receive safe passage into the afterlife.

Shiala had made contact with the _Watching Eye_ and informed them of what transpired. She told the other survivors that they were sending down a shuttle to extract them and that it would arrive in a little while.

The scientists and archeologists alike rounded up whatever personal belongings they had and awaited the shuttle's arrival.

Just as the sun began its descent towards the horizon, the high pitched noise of the shuttle breaking the sound barrier was heard. It made a quick pass over the pre-fab settlement before doubling back and landing. A single Salarian exited the shuttle, a shotgun in the alien's three digit hands. The survivors climbed aboard, desperate to leave the planet behind.

Liara stopped halfway up the shuttle's ramp giving one last look at the settlement and the small row of the fallen.

"What of the dead?" she asked the Salarian with the shotgun.

"We'll be back soon," he assured her, "but I believe the priority should be in evacuating those still breathing."

His tone was one of authority but reassuring and gentle at the same time. Liara nodded and took a seat inside next to Shiala.

Neither spoke to each other as the shuttle powered up and the ramp behind them closed shut. Liara felt a slight sense of vertigo as the shuttle's artificial dampeners kicked in and a wave of artificial oxygen sprayed into the cabin. She watched out of the circular viewport as the surface of Therum grew smaller and smaller and the blue sky turned into the black back drop of space, the white sparkling distant stars painting the void beautifully.

She then saw the _Watching Eye_ in low orbit, slowly moving with the spinning planet. That was when she realized they were not heading towards it but instead another ship, just out of range of the planet's gravity well.

"_Thessia's Wrath_, this is shuttle two-five, requesting permission to dock and approach vector," spoke the pilot into his helmet's communicator.

"Shuttle two-five, this is Captain Andralla of the _Thessia's Wrath_, you are cleared for dock, sending you approach vector now," rang the dreadnaught's captain over the radio, "Query, is Dr. T'Soni aboard?"

The pilot glanced back and made eye contact with Liara before turning his head back to the shuttle's bow viewport.

"That is confirmed, Priority One objective secured," the pilot answered as the image of the Asari frigate drew closer and closer. Each of the survivors had their heads craning to get a better look at the immense naval vessel.

Finally the small shuttle flew into the hanger of the dreadnaught. Although there was no 'door' to the hanger, there was a mass effect field that covered its' entrance. It was required to be off in order for the shuttle to enter but once the shuttle cleared the edge of the hanger, a shimmering blue field covered the entrance, signifying that the shield was in place. After a few moments, the shuttle landed and the vents around the massive 150 foot long hanger spewed out recycled air, and artificial gravity nodes activated as well.

Liara unbuckled herself from her seat and entered the thin isle running from the cockpit to the stern where the ramp was beginning to open. Just as the ramp opened, Liara descended as calmly as she could and found herself standing before three people. The one in the middle was obviously Captain Andralla judging by her naval uniform and the captain's insignia resting just above her left breast. The maroon pigmented asari captain seemed to reek of authority. Looking into her eyes, Liara saw a slight emptiness that was common among many soldiers after witnessing the horrors of war. Judging from that fact and that Andralla looked no older than 400, Liara assumed the captain was an accomplished veteran.

The being on Andralla's right was a turian although by the way he was standing, the guns strapped to nearly every part of his body, and a patch on his arm from the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, she was willing to go out on a limb and guess he was a SpecTre. He had electric blue eyes that seemed to stare directly into Liara's very soul, making her feel even more uncomfortable. Although he shared the normal turian physiology of a horned head fringe similar although different to an asari's, he had two extra that started at his cheek bones and sleeked back horizontally to the back of his head in uncompleted loops. Liara's eyes widened as she realized that the SpecTre's left arm was completely artificial, a simple mechanical prosthetic where the original flesh made one resided. His right leg seemed to have similar repairs done to it although Liara could only see three tubes connecting to his upper thigh and spiraling behind his back. What they were for, Liara had no idea. The SpecTre was dressed in an all black sleek cloak over a set of light armor. A long and ancient looking sword was dangling at his hip, reminding Liara of ancient warrior traditions still present in some turian clans.

The final figure was another turian. This one's face, unlike his SpecTre counterpart, was covered in black and red ink with white painted around his eyes as well as two lines on each cheek making the turian look as if his face was that of a skull ready for war. It was a truly frightening image and Liara would guess it was made to intimidate opponents on the battlefield. Like his comrade, this turian was armed to teeth but differed in melee weaponry by having a simple talon attached to his chest. He wore a set of grey and white heavy body armor, with his dark visor helmet resting in his right arm.

Liara gave the group before her one final glance and finished her descent down the ramp. Captain Andralla strode forward, the two turians following her footsteps, flanking both sides.

"Dr. T'Soni I presume?" greeted the captain with her fist to her chest in a classic asari salute.

"Yes, my name is Liara T'Soni," Liara answered mimicking the salute although halfheartedly, "you must be Captain Andralla."

"Indeed I am. I was saddened to hear of what transpired down on Therum but happy to see so many had survived. Lichen are dangerous creatures but thank the goddess they are rather rare," Andralla commented.

Liara thanked the captain and decided not to include the fact that this was the second time she had encountered the feral creatures and instead remained quiet as Andralla introduced the turians beside her.

"Dr. T'Soni, allow me to introduce agent Saren Arterius of the office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance," Andralla introduced causing the SpecTre to simply nod his head in greetings.

Liara returned the nod, smiling slightly in her correct assumptions.

"As well as Nihlus Kryik, a SpecTre in training, if you will," Andralla continued, making the other turian bow in an asari manner of respect, something that made Liara blush slightly since such a gesture was an old courting one used long before the asari were a space-faring species. Liara's respect for this Nihlus improved since it was clear he had done his homework on the other species of the galaxy.

Liara realized just a bit late that she was starring at Nihlus and quickly turned her attention to back to Andralla. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nihlus' mandibles flare slightly. She didn't know what it was supposed to mean, turians were hard to read.

"Now," said Andralla began, "you and the remaining members of your team will be escorted to the observation deck. We will be returning the Citadel momentarily to pick up the rest of the team and get you briefed on why we had to travel half way across the galaxy for you."

Andralla motioned for a couple nearby guards to escort Liara and her team before taking her leave, both turians following the captain. Liara found it surprising the Nihlus looked back at her just as he disappeared from view.

Liara was so caught up her thoughts that she failed to notice Shiala behind her until she heard her friend snicker. Liara turned to confront her once rival.

"And what's so funny?" she inquired in a slightly humorous manner.

"You," Shiala deadpanned, "and your inability to notice when someone has fancied you."

Liara felt herself blush, "I… I don't," she stammered.

Shiala placed a hand on her shoulder, the green asari in surprisingly high spirits after only an hour of having her life in jeopardy.

"Relax sweetie, it's another five hours to the citadel from here. I'm sure we can solve your problem," Shiala said leading her friend after the group already making their way towards the observation deck.

Liara began to imagine five hours of having _the talk_ with her best friend and suddenly felt a pit growing in her stomach.

_Goddess give me strength…_

_**Author's Note:  
>First things first, I really did not expect to post another chapter so soon. I've had off from work the past couple of days and I guess this was just a good way to pass the time. Oh well, no harm no foul.<strong>_

_**As for Saren's image… I decided to go with one of his original images described on Mass Effect wiki where I get most of the info I use. I might not have described Nihlus' face paint correct but I'm already in an AU story so I get to get away with it I suppose.**_

_**I'm sure all of you already know who Shepard's mysterious visitors were and please, I will officially announce who they are in upcoming chapters so don't ruin it for the people not quite up to speed yet.**_

_**Like I said before, this story had many inspirations to help me along. The two of them being most helpful, I am legend and 28 Days Later.**_

_**If anyone had any problems needing voice or if you have any suggestions on how to make this fic better, please let me know.**_

_**Thanks for reading and tune in for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Four, coming soon or whenever I end up writing it.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**MAS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

Special thanks to Bioware for making the Mass Effect Universe, it and all its awesomeness belong to the aforementioned company.

I don't normally do this, but some of the other writers feel that some background music can help properly convey a certain scene. So for this chapter, I suggest Solitary Man, by Johnny Cash and Wrath of Sea by Two Steps from Hell. Don't hate on awesome.

**WARNING!  
><strong>This chapter contains mild violence and extensive use of naughty words. Those with weak inhibitions should skip this chapter and suffer the consequences… wouldn't it be funny if someone read this and was actually like "Nope cant do it, weak inhibitions, have to skip the chapter." Seriously just imagine someone sitting at their computer and being all disappointed and upset and… okay I'll stop… enjoy the chapter!

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Earth  
>San Francisco, CA<br>March 6****th****, 2032**

Shepard flips the visor down, catching a pair of sunglasses as they fell. He puts them on and flips the visor back up. To his right sits a computer he had built into the passenger's side dashboard. It shows a live feed from cameras on all four sides of the humvee. His eyes find a square box hanging on the windshield to the left of the rear-view mirror. He pushes one of the two buttons present on it and the garage door opens before him, albeit horizontally instead of vertically.

The sunlight pours into the garage causing Shepard to sigh.

"Same shit, different day."

The humvee roars to life and pulls out of the garage, the door closing behind it.

Shepard's head remains glued to the road before him as he cruises down the deserted streets of San Francisco; deserted being the proper term since the streets are devoid of all and any human life save Shepard and his speeding humvee.

The road Sheppard drives on is in horrible disrepair. Cracks in the pavement litter nearly every foot or so, tall weeds grow in between them, flourishing in this world without humans. Debris is everywhere, on the sidewalks, the streets, even hanging from the buildings that are flying past. On one building in particular some genius decided to write "THE END IS EXTREMELY FUCKING NIGH!" is big yellow spray painted letters. The buildings themselves are charred, destroyed and crumbling. From what, who knows, but the infrastructure of San Francisco is dying, like the world of man that had created it. The trees are barren, something to be expected in March, but this is different. The trees here seem devoid of life, vacant husks in place of the green ancient beauties they once were. Save for the rumble of the humvee, the area is completely silent and desolate.

Shepard pays this no heed. His fingers drum the steering wheel in rhythm to the song playing over the tuck's radio, although, annoyingly, the CD seems to skip every time Shepard rolls over a bump. Again Shepard takes this in stride.

Finally, Shepard arrives at his destination. Sitting on a barren hillside, surround by barbed wired fencing and sandbags, sits a lone radio station. Although there is little in the way of remains, it is clear that a battle was once fought here, a seemingly desperate last stand for some group of survivors. Shepard pulls in the parking and parks into a parking spot. At the end, written in spray paint, is a mockery of a sign that reads CEO JOHN SHEPARD. A cruel and simple jest.

Shepard turns off the humvee's engine and exits the truck, un-holstering his .44 magnum and grabbing a high intensity flashlight. He calmly strolls up to the double door entrance, quietly whistling to himself. The small windows on the doors have been broken, their shards lying on the ground. Hanging around the door handles is the remnants of a padlock chain that seems to have been simply ripped off, not cut.

Reaching the doors, Shepard ceases his jolly tune and braces himself, shining a light through one of the cracked windows. Satisfied that the coast looks clear, he produces a key ring from one of his trench coat's many pockets. Hanging around the ring, as if it belonged, is a small little piece of paper that reads, KEY TO THE CITY. Unfortunately no one is around to not laugh at the ill humored joke.

Shepard inserts the right key into the lock and opens the doors, entering the radio station interior, closing the doors behind him.

The inside of the station looks as if a hurricane had blown through with all the wrath mother nature could provide. Loose leaf pieces of paper, multi colored folders, and various office supplies litter every inch of the main hallway. The small studio rooms offer no escape from the destruction as they too are in a similar state. Shepard continues down the short narrow hallway. In its heyday, the station probably boasted around twenty people needed to work it. Proctors, radio show hosts, secretaries, etc… It didn't matter any longer, the facility is empty save Shepard and the ghosts of times past.

Shepard reaches the end and hops over a crudely made barricade made from a couple of office desks, chairs, and monitors. A skeleton laid at the bottom, still clutching a broom handle sharpened into a spear, one of the last few defenders.

Shepard, paying the dead reminder no heed, opens the door at the end of the hallway and enters. He descends a flight of stairs, his way paved by his flashlight's simple bulb. After a few twists and turns, he comes to an array of circuit breakers. After a second of deliberating to himself, he chooses a breaker. He opens the panel, connects a few wires and throws a couple switches. The basement lights flicker on, one even bursting from the stress. He turns off his flashlight, saving the precious nine volt batteries inside, and heads back the way he came.

He hops over the barricade once more and chooses the first door on the right. He is met with another studio although this one seems to be focused mainly on music and talk shows. The monitors are all dead, lifeless, although a small panel is in fact on, a red light softly blinking, indicating that its user is now able to transmit across the airwaves.

Shepard takes a seat in front of the nearest microphone, flipping a switch that rest just beside it. A square box with the words ON AIR light up. He dons a set of headphones, placing one hand on the dusty table and the other on the transmit button located on the base of the microphone.

"Hello San Francisco and good morning. The ever faithful Epic Badass Johnny Shepard here with you, as I am every morning, Sunday through Monday, seven days a week, three-hundred and sixty-five fucking days a year. So how about some news?"

Shepard grabs some random loose leaf paper from the ground, holding it before him as if it actually read the news.

"Traffic? There is none. Weather? Who cares!" he waves his hand dismissively, "Latest news? I'm still alive. But what about you San Fran? How about giving me a call at 1-800- GO FUCK YOURSELF."

He looks over to a switch board. Three giant bullet holes decorate one side while the other remain lifeless and dead, covered in layers of dust and grime.

"Damn, the board is sure lighting up. But that's what happens when you're the most popular guy on the block. You would not believe the crowds that gather round here just to catch a glimpse of me. But Shepard," he asks himself in a whiney tone, "how can I, in my vast insignificant existence, meet someone of your stature and fame? Simple!" he answers, "I happen to be doing a live signing of my latest book , How to survive the apocalypse while everyone around me loses their fucking minds, this afternoon at Golden Gate Park. Today and everyday. 12 noon, when the sun is highest in the sky."

Shepard's face loses its mocking grin and becomes more sullen and depressing.

"Please…" he whispers into the static, "anyone…"

He shakes his head, throwing a mental switch.

"I leave you today with some of the classics. I know many of you might not like the music I play but I figure since there's no-one around I'd get to do what I want. So, here you go San Francisco, and stay classy."

Shepard stands from the table, pulling a CD from his pocket and inserting it into one of the players he activated before.

A classical score echoes over the silent airways, a mixture of Beethoven, Vivaldi, and Mozart. It is haunting and gloomy, a musical adaptation of the city itself.

Shepard leaves the stuffy confines of the radio station and climbs back into his humvee. He turns the engine on and leaving the old world building behind.

Shepard drives over the same cracked littered streets. Although he has seen this view before it still bothers him. He passes by an abandoned tank. The machine of war and death has died itself. A tattered and damaged helmet its driver once wore lay on the ground beside it. He passes burned husks of cars and other vehicles, some still have their occupants inside although only charred husks remain.

The seemingly last man on earth turns his attention away from old reminders and back to the road. Before he knows he has reached the Golden Gate Park.

What was once an oasis of nature in a sea of urban sprawl, the park now resembles the ancient battlefields of world war one's trench warfare. Although some of the monuments remain, the area around them is nearly hell made real. Long trenches line around key areas, flanks covered by barbed wire and spikes. Abandoned machine gun nests still reside where some soldiers must have left them. An unused apache helicopter sits idle on a jury rigged helipad. Craters from bombs dot the landscape. It is a truly medieval sight to behold.

Yet in all of the destruction, sits a simple white wooden bench. Although dirt and neglect have taken its toll, it appears that there is yet another veteran of whatever battle happened here. Sitting on the lone bench sits another veteran, eating a simple peanut butter sandwich, his head on a swivel, looking for any type of movement.

Shepard, without regard, throws his empty plastic baggie onto the ground and checks his sports watch. 12:48 pm. He takes another look around.

Nothing.

His head droops low forlornly.

His is alone.

_Alone…_

_XxxxxxX  
><em>

An hour later Shepard finds himself sitting in his armored truck, looking out onto the long strip of road. Whatever sign that once resided here that gave name to this patch of concrete is gone. A crater from some bomb the likely culprit judging by the giant hole in the street pavement.

Shepard exits his truck, making sure to grab his assault rifle, an AK47. He walks over to a seemingly deserted building and pulls out his map. With his finger he traces the path he had taken this morning and when he comes to his current location he gives the map a light tap. He folds the map and jams it into his pocket. He swings his AK around, placing the stock firmly against his shoulder. He walks apprehensively up to the entrance.

Whatever this building once was is long forgotten. Once three stories, the building, with its top floor caved in towards the interior, is an absolute ruin. All the windows are smashed apart, bullet holes dance across the outer brick wall like some twisted wall paper from hell, wild vines have grown upwards along its eastern and western wall, and, from the sounds of things, a flock of birds have named this place their own.

Although it doesn't mean much, this building has a purpose. It is a warning; a warning from nature on the insignificance of man's dominance over the globe. For once man leaves behind his empire of stone and metal and glass, nature will reclaim what rightfully belongs to it.

Shepard braces himself before the door, his legs spread evenly apart, ready to cave in the door through sheer force of leg power.

His leg comes up and just before it reaches the door…

BLAM!

A shot echoes through the dead city. A bullet slams itself into Shepard's lower back, just missing his machete.

Shepard falls with a grunt face first into the door. The infrastructure must've been weak because Shepard's head on collision is enough to break it open. A warm tingly sensation creeps down Shepard's face. But that isn't what has Shepard pissed off. It isn't even about him getting shot, shit tends to sometimes happen. It's the fact that his sunglasses are now broken, the frame visibly cracked, irreparable.

"Those cost me thirty bucks," he groaned, "you fuckers!"

Shepard picks up his rifle, switching it over to fully automatic and begins spraying whatever looks suspicious with 7.62mm rounds. After a couple seconds the gun clicks… empty clip. Shepard ejects the magazine and flips it around, shoving the full side into the breech and loading a fresh bullet, before switching back over to semi-auto fire.

This time he holds his fire and peers into the street, taking cover under a smashed window frame. He can see no sign of his attacker or attackers and the now unexpected battlefield is quiet.

Suddenly a man pokes his head from the cover of a damaged van and steps into view but not clean enough for a shot.

"Surrender scab," Shepard's attacked yelled out, "or the next shot won't miss!"

"Fuck you!" was the only response the attacker received.

The attacker shook his head, his hands clutched firmly around a scoped hunter's rifle, cambered with .22 caliber rounds. The small clip only hold six shots, with one already spent. Although the attacker's grip is firm, his hands shake uncontrollably, his breathing sounding as if he had trouble doing the simple instinctual act, and his body is covered in rags, his eyes covered in grime ridden goggles.

"Come on man," the attacker spoke diplomatically, "we can do this the easy way or the hard way. If you give up now I promise a quick death."

Shepard remained quiet for a second, as if he was actually pondering the offer.

"No chance in hell," he finally spoke.

"That's too bad," the attacker shook his head in disappointment.

Shepard aimed his rifle, resting it on the windowsill, lining up his shot. _Just a few more seconds_…

"Are you a Familiar?" Shepard asked trying to buy time.

His opponent paused for a moment. It was all the confirmation Shepard needed.

"It's a shame your masters won't be getting an easy meal tonight," Shepard mocked, "I'll write an apology letter. Where should I send it?"

By this time the attacker had enough, "Go to hell you sum' bitch! We got you out numbered five to one! You have no chance! No chance!"

Shepard smirked. _Just a bit longer_…

"You're a smart one," Shepard complimented.

"Thank you," the attacker spat.

"You said we."

The attacker clams up, realizing his mistake.

"You with Harby's group?" Shepard inquired but received no response. Instead the Familiar looked around, unsure how to respond.

Shepard follows his opponent's eyes as they drift over to a small fountain resting in front of some long forgotten office complex. Two more Familiars reside there. Shepard glances upwards, remembering the bullet that got him into this position. He notices a rifle barrel sticking out of a two story window.

Finally the attacker speaks again, "Then we do it the hard way."

"Gladly," Shepard mumbles finally pulling the trigger and sending a bullet into the leader's forehead.

The attacker drops, dying instantly. His comrades open up as well, attempting to avenge their fallen comrade.

Shepard pulls away from the window, ducking under the hail of lead heading in his direction.

_One rifle, low caliber… one handgun, possibly glock… one shotgun, low range quality_, Shepard thought as he mentally checked off his opponents' arsenal.

Shepard crawled over to an adjacent window. Jumping to his knees, he instantly brought his rifle to bear, years of instinct, training and luck guiding him.

He fired his first three shot burst into one Familiar with a shotgun, attempting to rush his cover where the shotgun would be most effective.

The once human being dropped dead with three circular holes dotting his chest. Another volley of bullets forced Shepard into back into cover.

Shepard popped up once again, firing another controlled burst at the Familiar with the handgun. Sure the rifle toting one was a higher priority but the boys on the ground needed to be dealt with first before Shepard can fully concentrate on the sniper.

The first two bullets missed just to the left, sending bits of concrete from the fountain into the air. The third however caught the handgun carrying Familiar in his neck, causing the creature to drop, hands instantly going to plug the hole in a vain attempt to stop the blood flow that already stained the cracked pavement.

With the ground team down for the count, Shepard turned his attention to the sniper. However, just as Shepard dared to sneak a peak, the sniper fired. With less than seconds to react, Shepard let instinct take over and he fell flat, the bullet just grazing the top of his head. He popped up again, ready to return fire, only to see the sniper had displaced, attempting to conceal his position.

Shepard smiled slightly, _a smart Familiar… who'da thunk it_?

Slowly, with his rifle and eyes scanned the opposite building Shepard backed away from the windows. The only way to beat a sniper was to both out think and out maneuver him.

As a child, Shepard grew up loving and adoring the military. Even when he was forced into gang life, he always dreamed that one day he be one of those guys on the commercial's with the pristine blue dress uniforms, shining glittering steel swords and spotless white gloves.

When his time finally came, Shepard, like many others, prayed to be a sniper and all the glory and illusions it offered. His personal hero was Carlos Hathcock, a famous marine sniper from Vietnam. Throughout the war, Hathcock had a staggering 93 confirmed NVA and Viet Cong kills. Confirmed kills however, needed to be recorded by a neutral third party, mostly officers. And since officers were not usually present with the sniper and his spotter, Hathcock probably had many more kills to his name. To his credit, the marine eventually worked his way to having a bounty placed on his head by the NVA worth 30 grand. Thankfully, no northern Vietnamese was able to claim the bounty. Hathcock died an old man in 1999, with the bounty still unclaimed.

Shepard learned a great deal studying this man and the way he would describe his MO during interviews. He strived to be that good, possibly greater.

So, although Shepard was not a sniper, he had both his religious study of Hathcock and his own military training and experience to help him through this.

The veteran slowly inched his way away from the wall of windows and, when he felt it was safe, turned and ran up a flight a stairs, leading to the second floor. Since using his flashlight would give away his position, Shepard had to ascend in darkness, tripping and losing his footing a couple times.

The second floor was riddled with debris from the third floor cave in. This would give Shepard a clear advantage in concealment against his adversary.

Shepard scanned the rubble. Since his body was encased in the darkness of the ruined building, he needn't fear the sniper spotting him. If he would, he would need a thermal scope or high powered one at least, but Shepard dismissed the idea of the sniper being equipped with one. The sniper's compatriots used old low grade weaponry so it wasn't likely this guy was outfitted better than the rest.

He instantly saw several usable spots, but tossed them away for being to obvious. If this guy was smart enough to displace, he would no doubt be scanning the entire building for easy spots.

Shepard was nearly ready to give up and try a different area, maybe even attempt at sneaking next door, when he saw it.

Two concrete slabs had fallen next to each other, creating an artificial V. It was backed deep enough into the shadows to offer the necessary concealment but not too far away where his rifle would be useless. It was perfect.

Shepard climbed up to the spot slowly, making sure not to disturb the rubble in any way otherwise it would give away his position. Finally he reached his objective and stuck in rifle out in the direction of the opposing building.

He waited, keeping a vigilant eye open for any movement on the other side, which he had no doubt the other sniper was doing as well.

He waited… and waited… and waited…

After what seemed an eternity, Shepard decided to steal a glance at his watch. 4:38 pm. The sun was going to set around six so he needed to be back in the safety of his home by five-thirty. He wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. The familiar on the other hand, had this in his advantage. He was not afraid of the dark and for good reason.

Shepard snapped back towards his duty, keeping his eyes open. A bead of sweat slowly rolled down his face but he dared not swipe it away. He couldn't afford to take his eyes off the building.

Almost religiously, Shepard sat there, unmovable as stone. Still as a statue.

Waiting… waiting… wait-

There!

Shepard panned his rifle over towards the right side of the opposite building. He saw something, even if it was out of the corner of his eye, he knew he saw it.

And that's when the Familiar made the one mistake that would cost him his life.

Shepard guessed that the sniper had grown impatient and decided that Shepard had moved on. Perhaps he abandoned his vehicle in order to get back to his refuge before nightfall.

And so, when he stuck his head out the window to look down at his fallen comrades, Shepard fired.

The 7.62mm bullet exploded from the barrel of the Russian Kalashnikov and flew through the air with the accuracy Carlos Hathcock would be proud of. It sailed along its intended course until making contact with the sniper's right temple. The blowback of brain, blood and skull confirmed the kill.

Shepard simply smiled.

Now that this excursion was over, Shepard chuckled to himself and descended from his perch, replaying the events that he just performed.

_Damn if only my old team could see tha -_

Wait a minute… the leader said he was outnumbered five to one. Shepard slowed his walk and held out his held, counting each digit as a kill. There was the leader, that's one. The shotgun and pistol fucks, that's two and three. The sniper makes four…

What of number five?

As Shepard stepped off the last step, his boot crunching onto the ground floor he saw out of the corner of his eye, number five as it slowly raised a snub nosed revolver in his direction.

Almost as if he were in slow motion, Shepard's head turned, eyes wide in surprise. The final Familiar pulled the hammer back, ready to end Shepard's miserable existence.

Was this really how it was to end? After enduring through all this? After witnessing first hand the fall of man and the crumbling of their empire? He was to die by this fucking creature who had just gotten lucky… all it took was one mistake.

The gun fired…

Silence….

_**Author's Note:  
>Does Shepard survive? Find out next time in Mass Effect Infection Chapter Five!<strong>_

_**The nature of the familiars will be something that will be addressed albeit at a later time.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

Bioware owns all, I'm just a nerd who enjoys exploiting for non profitable gains

Double Chapter post time! If you're just tuning in and haven't read chapter four go do so now or else not shit will make sense… I warned you.

Oh BTW, don't read too much into the double post. I was writing the last chapter and got carried away and had to split it up. That's the only reason for this.

Recommended music for the second action sequence would have to be Master of Shadows by Two Steps from Hell. I'm sure you're noticing a trend with my musical preference. Its recommended not required, enjoy this however you please.

**WARNING  
><strong>Again, more violence and swearing. I don't want to set the story to an M rating so I'll just post warnings to inform you of what the deal is. Enjoy!

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Earth  
>San Francisco, CA<br>March 6****th**** 2032**

Almost as if he were in slow motion, Shepard's head turned, eyes wide in surprise. The final Familiar pulled the hammer back, ready to end Shepard's miserable existence.

Was this really how it was to end? After enduring through all this? After witnessing first hand the fall of man and the crumbling of their empire? He was to die by this fucking creature who had just gotten lucky… all it took was one mistake.

The gun fired…

Silence….

Shepard's eyes closed when he heard the shot. When he opened them he expected to see the afterlife, to see his family and friends and all those he'd met over the years waiting for him as if he were simply arriving from a long painful and exhausting plane ride.

But no, it wasn't to be.

When Shepard opened his eyes he instead saw the same shithole he saw when he closed them. His hands darted over his body checking to see if he was hit.

Glancing back he saw a small bullet sized hole in the wall. The bastard missed.

Click… Click… Click…

That noise drew him back. Number five was standing there, the gun still pointed at Shepard, endlessly pulling the trigger on his weapon only for it to fall him.

Shepard actually found himself chuckling. Of course the fuck would miss, why wouldn't he?

Angrily number five threw the weapon down and pulled a knife from his back. The Familiar jabbed at the air, enticing and provoking Shepard…

…who simply smiled and calmly and delicately set his rifle down and reach behind his back. His hand reappeared this time occupied by a mean looking machete. On the blade and engraving reads REQUIESCAT IN PACE on the side. Fitting for it is the last things those that gaze upon it ever see with mortal eyes.

The familiar's gaze darted from the machete to Shepard and back again. Although frightened he could not run, not now. Not when his whole crew was dead. What would they say if he returned absent crew and catch? He would die as surely as if he stood his ground. But if he fought now, he at least had a chance. Whereas against the masters…. No chance….

Shepard's head cocked slightly to the side in expectation. He extended his arm, with his palm out flat. He locked eyes on the familiar and pulsed his fingers upwards twice without moving his palm. The message was clear: bring it on.

The Familiar roared in fury and attacked, swiping for Shepard's neck. Shepard stood his ground. Number five allowed a smile to come to his face, the bastard wasn't even trying. The attack came…and missed.

Surprised, the Familiar backed away slightly as Shepard allowed himself to stand upright, he dodged the attack. He raised his eyebrow: _is that the best you can do?_

Angered, the creature struck again, and again, and again. Each thrust of his knife, each slice, ended with only cutting or stabbing air. Shepard simply flowed around him, his long trench coat swaying with his movement although on a slight delay, his beard and tied hair swaying around in a crazy fashion.

Finally, the Familiar back away, his chest expanding and deflating rapidly in exhaustion. Even worse, Shepard was nodding at him.

"That's good, you're fast," he uttered as if schooling a protégé, "but your footwork needs practice and every time you move, your shoulders would give away your attack. In time you could have been quite skilled, maybe enough so that you could have killed me."

Shepard walked calmly towards the Familiar who by now was beginning to remember those stories of the monster living in the ruins. The monster, the stories told, was indestructible. A demon sent from hell to prey on those belonging to the new world order, a symbol of things that once were. A spirit from the old world that was still clinging to the hope that his world could be saved. He was fearsome and imposing. The stories said that he would hunt those in their sleep; murdering the men, raping the women and eating the children.

Judging from the near psychotic look Shepard was glaring at him as the monster approached, he was guess he found this monster, this demon. And he would die for it, for no one whoever saw him returned alive.

However scary he was, the Familiar male was more afraid of his masters than this figure. He would either return dead or a hero.

In a last vain attempt to save himself, the familiar lashed out with his blade. Shepard caught his arm midflight, holding it upright, the shock and fear evident on the Familiar's face.

"Too bad you'll never get the chance," Shepard said as he pierced the creature's stomach with his blade, the sharpened steel piercing bone and flesh easily. Red blood spewed from the wound and from the creature's mouth. Shepard stared into the eyes of what was once a man until the life faded from it.

Shepard let go of the arm and allowed the body to crash to the floor. He stared at the creature for a minute but not in pity but anger. Anger against those who destroyed his world and had taken everything he'd ever loved.

Pure, unbridled rage filled John Shepard and no amount of blood would quench the fire raging inside of him.

"Did not know who it was fucking with," he said as he spit upon the dead creature in disgrace.

Suddenly he felt a trickle of something cold running down his leg and then remembered the gunshot wound. His vest had armor plating on the back so the shot must have hit that small slit of exposed unarmored flesh in between his vest and machete.

Shepard reached behind his back. Sure enough there was a bullet hole, fresh blood slowly seeping from it.

Bending down his raised his right pant leg and found his combat knife tucked neatly in his boot-sheath. He grabbed it and did the only thing sensible. He began to dig out the bullet.

Gritting his teeth in pain, his face turning red, Shepard pierced his own flesh, going by what he felt since he could not see the wound. He wouldn't know how bad it was until he got back home.

After an excruciating couple of minutes, Shepard found the bullet and grasped it, allowing the knife to clatter to the floor. He let out a sigh when he pulled back his hand; a blood stained .22 caliber round resting in his palm.

He shook his head and began to head for the door when he heard the one sound any survivor living in the post apocalyptic city dreaded to hear.

It was no more than a moan, a simple echo from the darkness somewhere deep inside the building's dark interior. Soon came more… and more… and more, until the moan became screeches and roars of pain and power.

But mostly hunger.

Shepard stopped dead in his tracks. Through all the fighting he never thought he could alarm **them**. The wound on his neck gave a foreboding itch.

Shepard didn't hesitate. He grabbed his rifle, sheathed his machete and made a dash towards the entrance, the sound of pounding feet close behind him.

He could see the exit, just a few feet before him, but it might've as well been on the moon.

Shepard's short sprint turned into a hobble. The sound of bare feet on the icy cold floor was growing louder.

"Fuck it!" Shepard cursed and swung around, his rifle immediately in his hands, his trigger finger ready and his gun set to full auto.

He let out a small burst. The muzzle flash allowed him to see but a glimpse of his pursuers.

They were frail creatures. Pale and ravished from whatever effect the virus had on their bodies. In this nightmarish world they were the majority. Their movements were rather energetic despite what their physical appearance dictated, their teeth gnashing in hunger. Sure, bringing them down was easy enough but their numbers were always staggering, outnumbering their prey in unrealistic numbers. They hunted in packs, these once human ferals. They used to be business men and women, husbands and wives, daughters and sons, working class peoples of every variety.

Now they were beasts. Beasts that hunted the survivors to near extinction, living off their rich fresh blood and flesh.

Most were adorned in rags, constant reminders of who they once were. Others were completely nude in all their glory for the entire world to see, shameless.

Shepard's burst staggered a few, forcing them to fly backwards into the group now after him. It would buy him the precious few seconds he needed to get into the daylight, something that the ferals react to in a fatal spontaneously combustible type of way.

Shepard cursed when he turned for the door only to see his exit blocked off by three more ferals. He fired three bursts, killing all but one. Quickly he debated whether or not to engage this final one. Chances were he was low on ammo and he didn't have time to reload. So, he made a b-line towards the stairwell, the same he used before to gain the upper hand against the sniper. Going by memory and praying he didn't slip, Shepard darted up the stairs, turning only to fire a burst at the horde congregating at the bottom.

A soft click told him he was dry in his primary weapon and continued to run, simultaneously slinging the AK over his shoulder. He pulled out both of his pistols mid-run and turned to fire again, catching two as they rounded the corner. He holstered the magnum due to its six round capacity and pulled the flashlight from his vest, clicking it on and illuminating the path as he ran.

He could hear even more ferals awakening around him. It was then he realized just what he had gotten himself into.

He walked right into a goddamn hive!

A hive, as it became known as, was a cluster of feral subjects in a certain immediate area that numbered from fifty plus. Anything lower was a nest, just small groupings.

Regardless of names, if Shepard could not find a way out, he might as well kiss his ass goodbye.

His head and flashlight darted around for an exit point, anything that could help him escape.

And then he found it. It was barley noticeable but it was there none the less. A window frame that had survived to this day, covered in some black drawl that allowed zero sunlight penetration.

Shepard ran straight for it but the ferals were gaining on him. Just as he reached it, he felt something tackle him from behind throwing him to the ground. Shepard let loose with a wild elbow shot, connecting with a feral's jaw, knocking it back. He stood as fast as he could but was tackled again almost instantly, this time by two of the insane creatures. The force of their collision was enough to send all three through the window and into the daylight. Although Shepard could not notice it at the time since he was attempting to not get bitten by the creatures clinging to him, he began to fall two stories towards the ground.

Luckily, he landed on top of one of the ferals, the other bouncing off him and landing a few feet further away. As Shepard stood, brandishing his magnum since his pistol was MIA, he struggled to catch his breath. Falling two stories and landing on something, then having something land on you could tend to do that to a person.

Lucky for him, both ferals began going ecstatic in the sunlight, the UV rays penetrating their skin as it slowly burned them alive. It wasn't long until both creatures stopped moving and were reduced to ash.

Shepard, finally catching his breath, stood upright and glanced up at the broken window above him. The surviving ferals howled down at him in rage that their meal escaped and he killed their brethren. But even animals should know not to stick their noses where it hurts and since the sunlight hurt them in fatal ways, Shepard was safe for now.

Shrugging, Shepard limped over towards his humvee. Passing by the entrance to the building he had just escaped from, Shepard noticed that the Familiar he had killed in hand-to-hand combat was being dragged away. It seems that both Shepard and the ferals got at least something right in this venture. The ferals wanted to feed and Shepard wanted to kill every abomination plaguing his home. As for the Familiars… no one really cared in the end anyways.

Shepard neared home just as the sun was beginning its descent. The warm yellow rays had now turned an ominous orange-ish red. Although it was beautiful without a doubt, it also meant danger.

Bad things came out at night. Things that wanted Shepard dead and not in the name of hunger.

Passing through the Hills district was once a sight to behold. The houses and their prestige meant you were a somebody if you owned one. The kind of somebody who acted without fear of consequence.

Now the homes that litter the Pacific Heights, Nob Hill and Russian Hill look like the terrain of war torn Bosnia. Crude defenses, tanks, Humvees with 50 caliber machineguns resting on top, sandbagged foxholes, artillery units and even a tent HQ for whoever was in command of the soldiers stationed here, they all cover every inch. The battle, or war, that had swept through San Francisco did not spare this area at all. In fact, it looks like it was site of a ferocious battle.

Sitting alone atop of a barren hill rests Shepard's home. A turn of the century house some people would die for. Shepard had received it in thanks for a certain covert operation near the North Korean DMZ. Sometimes being a war hero had its perks.

From a distance it almost seems as if his house is just a normal house. But it is far from it. Every window is covered with thick metal plating, small slits are cut into them for visibility and guarding those slits are assortments of chicken wire and jagged nails that point outwards in all directions.

The walls of the house are reinforced with steel as well, with any weak point covered with barbed wire, and nails. Dotting alongside every flank are high intensity lamps. Joining them are arrays of motion, sensor and security cameras that point out in every which way so that Shepard has not a single blind spot.

Although the house itself is frightening, the landscape takes the cake by far. The entire vicinity is surrounded by two menacing walls. The outer wall is nearly twenty feet high, made from trees, telephone poles, lamp poles, railroad ties, and reinforced with metal plating and barbed wire. Resting on both sides of the outer fence are trenches covered in wooden and metal spikes, each pointing helplessly upwards.

The interior fence, only a measly seven feet high is made from wooden beams crisscrossed and interlaced with chicken wire and barbed wire. From his house, fifty feet away, Shepard can see through it to the other side but now one could get through without turning into Swiss cheese.

Stuck in between both fences is a six foot deep moat filled with muddy water. It's small and sinister looking and serves its purpose well.

Even after all that, if one were to make it past al those defenses, lies a narrow bridge only fifteen feet wide. A perfect shooting gallery.

As Shepard draws nearer he finds that little box just to the left of the rear view mirror and pushes the button opposite of the one he used this morning.

Groaning, the giant twenty foot fence slowly opens. Shepard's humvee slowly crawls through and he passes by the frightening landscape surrounding his home and pulls into the garage.

The door opens and closes.

Now in the safety of his fortress, Shepard groans as he climbs out of the humvee. He grabs his equipment from the trunk and heads to the basement. He passes through the medical center and into the armory where he takes of his weapons and bandoliers. He now grabs an M24 semi automatic sniper rifle. The rifle carries twelve 7.62mmx51mm rounds with armor piercing capabilities. He grabs four extra magazines and a thermal scope. Next he takes an Uzi, Israeli made, and an addition two clips of 9mm ammo.

He remembers the .22 bullet in his pocket and retrieves it. He stares at it for a moment before chuckling.

"twenty-two is for pussies," he said as he hefts his M24,"Now if you had this, I wouldn't be standing here right now… too bad."

He takes his two preferred weapons and heads into the med bay. He disarms his Kevlar vest and notices a rip on the shoulder. There is a small wound but he cleans it quickly and turns his attention towards the bullet hole in his back. Although he had managed to stop the bleeding in the car, he is now able to fully treat it. He disinfects the wound and sterilizes a needle. Before continuing he takes a swing of the whiskey he used to disinfect the wounds and continues. He turns the iron on and waits for it to heat up. As he waits he takes several small wooden bars and bites down on them. When it's ready, he braces himself, then applies the scalding hot end into the wound itself, cauterizing it. He attaches some thread and, utilizing a small mirror, he begins to sew up the small hole. It's a painful process but it needs to be done.

Finally finished, he looks at his handy work and shrugs, _good enough_.

He cleans up what ever blood had dripped onto the floor, disposing the rag into the decontamination bin. He hefts his rifle and submachine gun and heads upstairs.

He heads to his room and changes out of his combat gear, hanging up his vest and coat. He peels off the body suit and makes a mental note to fix it. He slips on some loose fitting clothes, shirt, jeans, and sneakers.

The sun is just finishing in daily vigil and Shepard begins locking down the house.

Once he's finished, he heads to the kitchen and pulls out a frozen steak.

"It's my birthday, why not?" he asks no one in particular.

After cooking his dinner, steak and potatoes with a small muffin with a single candle in it, he sits down to eat. However, the food doesn't seem appealing to him, although he has taken a few bites from his steak.

"Kinda depressing, isn't it?"

The voice forces him to turn around. Standing there, wearing a beautiful dark blue dress is the same woman from before. In her ears hang a set of priceless looking earrings as they sparkle in the low lighting. Around her neck dangles a simple pearl necklace. Her hair is down, falling over her shoulders, a stark contrast from her earlier appearance.

Shepard turns back to his food as the woman sits down across from him.

"So, how was your day?" she asked.

"Got shot… almost got eaten… how was your?" he asked with contempt.

"No too bad. I visited your sister in the hospital. Doctor's say it won't be much longer," the woman's voice is sorrowful.

"That's sucks," Shepard responds coldly.

The two sit in silence as Shepard eats his birthday dinner and the woman watches on.

The woman, finally having enough, scoffs, "Why do you do that?"

"Do what," Shepard asked, curious.

"You put up that damn wall. Anyone who tries to talk to you is just brushed aside," the woman emphasizes her point with the wave of her hand.

"Force of habit I guess," He shrugs, "why do you care?"

The woman looks almost hurt, "You are seriously asking me that?"

Shepard doesn't say anything and continues to eat.

"Please, just humor me," the woman says grasping Shepard's attention, stretching out her hand towards him.

He looks at it with a slight tremble. He shakes away his preconceptions and makes eye contact with her. _After all, it is my birthday_…

Shepard wipes his mouth from the juice excreted from the steak and sets down his utensils.

"Alright Ashley, I'll play along," Shepard says holding out his hand.

Ashley smiles and takes it, "Isn't this place beautiful?"

Shepard looks around. Gone is the depressing sight of his home, replaced by a lively bustling immaculate restaurant filled with patrons and servers each dressed for the high end atmosphere. Even Shepard has changed. Gone are his beard and long dreadlocked hair, replaced them with a clean chiseled jaw and a short buzz cut. A small scar races up on the left side of his hairline, a brief reminder of his service to his country. His outfit is replaced by an all black tux, black undershirt with a white tie to contrast. His look is stunning, deserving to be on magazines and billboards, not on the battlefield.

"Yes it is," Shepard observed, "A buddy from the Department of Defense told me about it. I had hoped you'd like it."

"I do," Ashley reassured him, taking a sip from the glass of champagne, "I'm just surprised you can afford it."

"Well, after that incident in the Korean DMZ, I received a very hefty check. They call me a hero but I think they're just trying to forget about what happened there," Shepard stated taking a sip from his own glass.

"Did it work?"

"Without a doubt," Shepard replied with a smile.

"I still can't believe you're leaving the military," Ashley commented, staring into his electric blue eyes.

"Yeah, it sucks, but I have to move on at some point. I mean, its not like I'm leaving tomorrow, I still got another two years left."

Ashley snickered, "yeah, Alenko is already interviewing possible replacements. I'm telling you, the N7 program will never find better."

"Has he found any?"

"Nope."

"Why doesn't he take over?" Shepard asked confused.

"Please," Ashley held back a scoff, "Kaiden's a good guy, don't get me wrong, but he can't fill your shoes, no one can."

"There's always Jacob… or Zaeed?"

"We asked him," Ashley stated over the soft classical music backdrop.

"Jacob?"

"Zaeed."

"What did he say?" he asked.

"Told us to fuck off," Ashley said causing them to both erupt in laughter, drawing the gaze of other patrons.

"He said that?" asked Shepard incredulous.

"Yup. Hackett and Anderson went up to him, found him in a bar. Before they even uttered a word he told them to fuck off and they left."

Shepard smirked, "what a character…"

His gaze met hers and they both stared deeply into each other. It wasn't long before Shepard dropped the gaze and frown covered his features.

"This is nice Ash, but it has to end."

Ashley, jaw agape, stammered, "w-what?"

"This," Shepard said waving his arms around, "this illusion. We both know how its ends. We go home, shag like minx, sleep in and in the morning I get a call from Gianna and she says she's pregnant. A year later we're married. We have a daughter named Ellie. When she turns five the virus begins to spread. I jump back into uniform and we fight, like we always do. But that was a fight we couldn't win. Not that time. Two months in Jacob dies and Zaeed goes AWOL. A week later we attack that hive and we had to leave Kaiden behind. Then you," Shepard stops his monologue, unable to continue but gathers his strength and does anyway, "and then you die. I see **him** stab you through the heart. You're dead in seconds and I'm left alone. I still fight because-"

"Because you think you'd fail us otherwise," interrupted Ashley. She places her hand back on his. Suddenly he is back in his home and all that implies.

"But John, you're not alone. You never were."

Shepard's gaze falls to the table, a silent tear falling from his eyes.

"I wish with every fiber of my being that that is true."

A soft beeping breaks him from his monotony. His head darts over to a small laptop sitting on the counter. The words MOTION DETECTION ALARM blares in big bright letters.

"They're early."

He stands from the table, blows out the candle and tosses it at Ashley, who simply side steps it.

"Happy Birthday," Shepard utters as he goes to prepare.

_**Author's Note:  
>I really wanted to get the next sequence in but alas I'm at least going to try and keep this under 5000 words and if I did add it this chapter would exceed that number greatly and I'd have split the chapter up again and I'm not doing that.<strong>_

_**So any one's thoughts so far? Your opinions matter a great deal to me so why don't you hit that review button at the bottom and share your thoughts. If not, I'm going to sick my army of immortal ninja grandma clowns on you and they don't take any mercy! MWAHAHA!**_

_**Enough witty banter aside I'd say one more Shepard centric chapter to go before Liara comes back. If any one is confused with the Shepard/Ashley scene don't worry all will be explained in due time.**_

_**The little info on Zaeed turning down the offer was shamelessly ripped off X-Men the First Class in the scene where Magneto and Professor X try to recruit Wolverine. Absolutely priceless and yes more info on that later. There will be a couple of flashback chapters in the future to clear up any confusion.**_

_**FYI, the engraving on Shepard's machete means "rest in peace" like I said, fitting.**_

_**I hope you've enjoyed this, and stay tuned for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Six!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

First things first I have found a few errors within the story.  
>*-One being that Shepard's daughter is five when the plague breaks out, she would be twelve in 2032. I kind of got confused writing that part… oops.<br>*-The _Thessia's Wrath_ is a frigate, not a dreadnaught.  
>-Shiala I know is only green when she was a clone by the Thorian but I am writing an AU story so I'm getting away with it scot free.<br>*-Carlos Hathcock did not die in '71 but in '99. I read his bio wrong and mistaken his career for lifespan. If you really look at it, it makes no sense so I apologize for that little tid-bit.

*As of February 27th 2012 this is fixed.

I am really lazy when it comes to editing previous chapters I'm afraid. If there's a huge problem that needs revisiting I'll do it but little stuff like the aforementioned material isn't enough to gander my full attention. Anything similar will be posted as such.

Thanks to those who have reviewed and PMed me. It's nice to know that you got some ideas and I might actually use some.

Mass Effect and its entirety belong to Bioware and EA.

**WARNING!**  
>This chapter will include lots of violence and gore with the addition of verbal expletives (swearing), reader discretion is advised.<p>

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Earth  
>March 6<strong>**th**** 2032  
>San Francisco, CA<br>Shepard Residence**

"But John, you're not alone. You never were."

Shepard's gaze falls to the table, a silent tear falling from his eyes.

"I wish with every fiber of my being that that is true."

A soft beeping breaks him from his monotony. His head darts over to a small laptop sitting on the counter. The words MOTION DETECTION ALARM blares in big bright letters.

"They're early."

He stands from the table, blows out the candle and tosses it at Ashley, who simply side steps it.

"Happy Birthday," Shepard utters as he goes to prepare.

Shepard picks up his M24 and his Uzi, slinging the sniper over his shoulder and cradling the submachine gun in his arms like an infant child. He runs, full sprint, past the T hallway and past the garage door. He comes to a flight of stairs and stops. On the wall just to the left is a switch board. There are two parallel rows of six switches on it. Shepard wastes no time in flipping them all on.

The outside high intensity flood lights instantly flick on. The light is so bright that on Shepard's residence, night has become day. Immediately the lights around the interior of the house dim, even some turning off completely. Whatever voltage those lamps outside use, they do consume a lot of power.

Shepard climbs the flight of stairs to its peak, a simple hatch door. He unbolts the lock and climbs into a sniper's nest that rest on the very top of his home, as if it were a chimney.

The nest itself isn't all that large or spacious; just enough room is available for a small five by five table and for Shepard to be able to swing his long rifle around with ease. Again, like most of his defenses, the walls of the nest are reinforced with steel plating, two foot slits cut into the metal for visibility and even those are interweaved with chicken wire.

From this vantage Shepard can easily see every side of his house, a 360 degree firing vantage point. Every other house within a hundred yard vicinity has been burned or demolished in similar fashion. His enemy's would have no port to launch attacks from.

Shepard places the Uzi on the table next to a laptop, flare gun, an M14 semi-automatic rifle and set of night vision binoculars. He leans the rifle up against on of the walls and grabs the binoculars, lifting them to his eyes.

Through the twin scopes, Shepard can see figures gathering on the horizon, about twenty or so. However, even more are arriving, from the east and west, and in greater numbers.

Shepard lets out a small curse and retreats back downstairs. He makes a right in the hallway and enters his bedroom. He heads towards a small cubby area and opens the barely three foot door. Inside the cubby is a vast array of religious ornaments. A crucifix, Buddha, Muslim prayer beads, Jewish stars, Norse runes, a Celtic cross, Hindu gods, the works, he has them all. The solitary man utters a short prayer.

"Lord… god… or gods… to anyone still listening, allow my aim to be true, my purpose clear, and my focus unfaltering. Although me to be stronger than my enemies who are trying to kill me. And if tonight I shall perish… fuck you."

Shepard stops praying. Instead he pulls a lighter from his pocket and lights a few sticks of incense. He closes his eyes and clasps his hands together.

"Please… please…" he begs to whatever deity would listen.

A low moan from outside breaks him from his worship. The moan is soon followed by chanting and roaring, taunts and curses. Shepard's eyes flash open.

"Shepard," a voice, male, calls from behind.

Shepard turns from the cubby of religious artifacts to see a man, the same from earlier that morning. Their eyes meet.

"I know," Shepard simply utters and stands.

The moaning and screaming subsides, replaced by a deep and booming drumming. It is powerful, loud and seems to shake Shepard to his core. He knows what it means. It is the sound of the grim reaper ready for his next victim, here to whisk Shepard away to the afterlife.

But, as he always has done before, Shepard remains defiant. He stands alone in his bedroom, eyes closed, listening to drumming as it intensifies, growing louder and more sinister with each passing second.

"Skipper," Ashley calls out, as she had her fellow specter try to shake the lone survivor from his daze.

Finally, Shepard moves, hands shaking in fear. He runs to his workout room and violently turns his iPod on. Harsh heavy metal music blares in contrast to the hard drumming outside. Combined with his music and the drums, and odd discordant symphony is created.

Shepard falls against the floor, curling up into a fetal position, tear freely flowing down his face out of pure unbridled fear.

"Please… stop…"

And that when he hears it. Whatever enemy has amassed outside his gates, they make their intentions clear as they begin chanting.

"_**She-pard, She-pard, She-pard!"**_

"Stop…" he weakly utters.

"_**She-pard, She-pard, She-pard!"**_

Stop." He cries more defiantly.

"_**She-pard, She-pard, She-pard!"**_

"STOP IT!" he screams as he jumps to his feet, shutting off the music.

He darts up the stairs and climbs into the nest. Picks up his M24 and adjusts the sights. He aims it towards where the attacks are collecting.

"Alright Harbinger… I'm ready," he mutters, bracing himself for what comes next.

Resting past the gates, just beyond Shepard's range lays an army. An army of creatures, frightening and sinister, malevolent in their war against humanity. All that stands in their way is one man.

Shepard.

They are close to three hundred in number, male and female. Each is ghostly pale, their skin almost translucent to the point that one can see the veins under their skin in some places. They all lack hair; on their skulls, eyebrows, and facial features. Each is adorned in ragged clothing that seems to boarder on the savage side, contrasted by a vast array of homemade jewelry. Each one has the same blue grey eyes that betray a level of intelligence carried from when they once called themselves human.

There is an order to this group, a hierarchy. The lowest on the totem pole are the ferals that are kept and treated like dogs, chains wrapped around their necks by their masters. Next are the Familiars, the group's daylight hunters, humans who have yet to undergo their full transition. Next are the healers, with a role that is sufficiently self-explanatory. After are the drummers and members of the clergy, the group's religious sect. Finally are the warriors, the soldiers, and the fighters, the greatest in number. They are Shepard's main threat; each possesses a level of inhuman strength and stamina. They hiss and snarl at the demon hiding his perch, throwing taunts as if they could actually physically wound him.

Lastly are the lieutenants. Standing alongside his clergy sits Vigil. He is an intense, intelligent, almost sensitive man, who unlike the others, looks upon Shepard not in anger but in pity. He is the most dressed out of all the creatures present, wearing a long and flowing robe, the hood covering the top of his barren skull. A symbol is etched on the robe's chest that gives confidence and power to his group, a twisted and deformed version of a holy symbol.

Rallying her warrior and barking orders to the feral keepers is the warrior lieutenant, a female. Only a small drab of cloth hides her dignity. Whatever skin is visible is covered in scars from battle. Her face is covered in primitive and savage markings, like a tribal ready for war. She walks as a fantastically strong vicious woman, and possess a manic and ferocious energy. All her hate, her anger, is directed to one man.

Standing above all the rest is the leader, Harbinger. He stands exuding an air of power and confidence. His body is chiseled and intimidating, a haunting sight. He commands this group with the calm of a head of state, the tactical mind of a general, and the drive and brute force of a tribal king. His body, unlike the others is painted all black, his eyes the only thing on his body untouched by the dark substance. He wears no jewelry and but a simple cloth that hangs to his knees to hide his shame. He requires no weapons or armor, no shield before his adversary. He requires nothing but his natural form.

He stands, as if a statue of concrete jettisoning from the core of the earth itself, his bare feet placed upon a cold slab of rock that offers him a view of the battlefield before him.

Each of the creatures dance around in anticipation and anger yet all wait for the word from their leader.

Harbinger nods to Vigil, "Bring her," he orders, his voice booming with conviction and authority, yet enough malice to send a chill down the spine of the devil himself.

Vigil nods in return and motions to a few clergymen who bring forward a captive. The captive is clearly a human being just entering the stages of becoming a Familiar, her hands and feet bound with barbed wire that digs unmercifully into her skin.

Vigil's men place her before Harbinger. She looks upon the god-king with fearful eyes. Harbinger step off of his 'throne' and approaches her, kneeling before her so his eyes are level with hers.

"What is your name child?" he asks innocently.

"A-Amy…" the girl barley utters.

"Amy," Harbinger repeats," how would you like to become something more? How would you like to enter a stage of transcendence and clarity?"

Amy remains silent, her cheeks stained with blood, dirt and tears.

"Amy, I offer salvation through destruction; the destruction of your humanity. Through this, you will become one of us," Harbinger offers, wiping away the tears from her cheek.

Amy looks around at the assembled creatures as they gaze upon her, almost smelling the blood flowing inside her.

"You… you're reapers…" Amy states with both hesitation and awe.

Harbinger stands and spits, "Reapers… a label from Shepard to give voice to his impending death. What he chose to call us is irrelevant. We simply are. The pinnacle of human evolution. The final stage in what was once a genetic mistake."

He looks back down at Amy.

"That's all humanity was; a mistake, an accident. But us? We are the answer to the equation. We are eternal," Harbinger exclaims with his arms held out wide.

He paces before his clan, his army.

"We are each a nation. Indestructible, even in death. We have no beginning and no end. Millions of years after Shepard is but dust, we will endure. After his civilization is lost and forgotten, we will remain for we are infinite!"

When Harbinger's crescendo reaches its apex, the warriors all raise their fist in a cry of victory and celebration.

"But… But he has guns…" asked Amy.

"Guns," repeated Harbinger with contempt, "I have not played with toys since I was a child. I have no need for them. Shepard does," he says pointing the brightly lit house before him, "take them away and he is naked."

He kneels before Amy once again.

"So what is your answer? Is submission not preferable to extinction?"

Amy, defiantly, rose as far as her bounds would allow.

"Go to hell!" she exclaimed launching a wad of spit into Harbinger's face.

Without betraying an ounce of emotion, Harbinger wipes away the substance from his face and turns to his warrior lieutenant.

"Who goes forth tonight?"

The lieutenant motions towards ten reaper warriors, "these, my strongest and fiercest."

Harbinger nods, "Prepare for your ascension," he utters softly to Amy.

Harbinger raises his hand, his palm flat and extended, revealing five digits that end in sharpened three inch nails that resembles talons or claws. He then proceeds to swipe at Amy, cutting her throat, spilling blood all over the young girl's chest.

The ten selected reapers pounce on her and begin to eat her flesh and drink her blood. The girl tries to scream but can only manage sharp pained gasps.

Harbinger, seeing a bit of life left in her, leans in close.

"This is not a punishment. This is a gift. You have become among us in body and blood. Rejoice."

Finally the girl dies and the ten warriors stand from her corpse, fresh blood and meat hanging from their mouths.

Harbinger returns to his throne before turning to address his army.

"Release the ferals!"

The feral keepers grin sadistically as they unleash their charges, the feral creatures howling as they dart towards their target: Shepard.

Shepard watches the perimeter of the outer fence with dark predatory eyes. The howling and drums have started up again. Calling from previous events, he pulls back the bolt on his rifle, chambering a fresh 7.62mm in the breach.

"Yea though I walk through the valley," he mumbles trying to block out the noise.

In the distance the ferals, numbering around fifteen, have reached the outermost fence, making the leap across the first spiked pit with ease. Some make it the top of the wall, and wait for their comrades. Others have over jumped the pit only to land in the one on the other side, impaling them horribly.

"Of the Shadow of death."

Shepard finds the chest of one and pulls the trigger. The bullet flies and connects, sending the beast back into the darkness. He pans his rifle over, looking for a new target.

The remaining eleven ferals have jumped from the top of the wall. A few have landed in the moat of murky water; others have cleared it and have arrived at the inner fence. Shepard fires twice, nailing one feral in the face and another in its knee, separating the creature's leg.

"I will fear no evil."

The two ferals in the moat struggle to get out and make for easy shooting to which Shepard takes full advantage of. With only seven left, Shepard allows the ferals to jump the inner fence before rushing to his laptop. After a set of hurried commands, the screen reads, PROXIMITY MINES ACTIVATED. Down below an explosion from a claymore followed by the pained howl of a feral causes Shepard to smirk.

Shepard returns to his view just as two feral reach his proximity mines, located just before the bridge. The mines make short work of two more ferals, leaving just four.

Shepard's aim snaps from target to target, firing in as many shots in as many seconds as one would need to count, one Mississippi… two Mississippi… three Mississippi… four Mississippi.

With the ferals dead, Shepard quickly reloads, "For I am the badest motherfucker, in that valley."

The next wave starts seconds later as ladders begin to land on the outer wall. Since they only possessed three ladders, the reaper warriors climb up three at a time. Shepard aims as the first comes into view and blows its brain out the back of its skull. He fires again but his round only grazes his intended target, although it causes the creature to fall backwards into the spike pit.

By the time Shepard had taken out his third target, five warriors have made it over the fence, using their intelligence to take cover from Shepard's lethal aim. One warrior slips and loses his balance on the fence and falls forward into the pit, impaling himself. Another horribly cuts herself on the barbed wire. Before the creature can recover, her comrades pounce on her, using her as a stepping stone over the fence. She passes into the afterlife betrayed.

Shepard drops his M24 and picks up the M14, using the high intensity lamps to guide him.

Shepard fires twice, nailing one in the heart and another in the neck. The fall like bowling pins as if someone flipped the god-switch in their brains.

With three warriors left they rush towards the house. They reach the moat, one going straight in, the other just behind him. The final warrior stops, recognizing the smell of the moat from her previous life. She reaches out and grabs her brother before he can enter the moat.

"You like surprises?" taunted Shepard picking up the flare gun.

He aims it towards the reaper waddling through the moat.

"I love surprises."

He fires, the flare flying in an accurate arc before landing in the moat, igniting the gasoline inside of it.

The reaper inside the moat is vaporized. The other two are badly burned but alive. The female stands looking at the growing flames as they arch towards the sky, rage growing inside of her.

"Happy birthday Johnny," Shepard congratulates to himself.

The reapers and Shepard watch as flames spread around the moat, forming a circle of fire, the flames dancing upwards exhuming thick black smoke.

"Get your attention yet Harby?" Shepard screamed over the roaring flames.

The reapers stand shocked at this development. Harbinger's jaw clenches tightly in anger.

The female warrior looks at her burned comrade, the reaper reaching towards her, silently begging for help. The female leans down and kisses him on the lips, stroking the side of his face as he pass on to the next world, his burns too severe.

The female snarls and leaps, clearing the distance over the moat in a single bound. She leaps again over the inner fence.

In his perch, from his point of view, Shepard sees the female as she dodges his fire with surprising speed, almost as if she knew where and when he was shooting. Cursing Shepard slowed his breathing, following the female's pattern. His finger tenses and is about to shoot.

But at the last second he stops. He notices something, or someone, in the distance outlined by fire. He can not make out any features but the build… the height… that way the strange shadow walked…

Down below the female has realized Shepard's attention is elsewhere. She smiles and begins planning her attack.

Shepard watches with familiarity. He picks up his binoculars and sees-

"Gianna!"

Standing there, gazing up at him, is his wife, dressed in the same outfit in which he last saw her; a simple white nightgown. She reaches her hand out to him.

Shepard drops the specks and darts downstairs, but not before grabbing his Uzi. He runs to the front door and begins unlocking it in a mad fashion, his hands darting around the locks in desperation. His hand reaches the door handle and he stops. He knows he can't open the door, not now.

Shepard runs his hands through his hair and gives the door a good kick in aggravation. In his mind he formulates a plan and remembers something. He puts his face to the very crevice of the door.

"Gianna, hang on baby I'm coming!"

He turns and dashes to the basement door. He throws the picture from the wall, the glass of the frame breaking, and he punches in the code. Impatiently he waits for the door to open and when it does he swings it open with all the force he can muster and sprints down the steps. Halfway down he trips, falling the remainder of the stairs.

Groaning he stands, turning on the lights. Once on he proceeds in the basement interior. He enters the med bay and heads to a plain wall, its only decoration a simple desk. He pushes the desk aside and reveals a small tunnel covered by a piece of sheet metal, no more than four feet wide and four feet tall. The tunnel is a small crawlspace of earth and dirt, a catacomb of webs that spiral in and around the house.

Shepard drops to his belly and shimmies his way in. He crawls; passing by several openings before coming to the one he thinks will lead him to his destination.

Shepard reaches up and unbolts a piece of metal plating. He sits there for a minute, listening for any type of movement. When he is satisfied, Shepard springs up through the hole, half of his body still submerged under ground. His Uzi pans the width of the area. He sees nothing, so he climbs fully out and bounces to his feet.

"Gianna," Shepard calls softly, "where are you honey?"

Shepard hears movement behind him. Nothing. Movement to his right causes him to spin again but finds the same. He's about to give up when he hears a soft crunch behind him.

He spins, expecting to see his wife. But instead he finds himself face to face with the female reaper.

She stands there, completely nude, blood and grime wiped away. She is stunning with full perfectly rounded breasts. Her body is comely, seductive, and magnificently shaped. She reaches out to him invitingly.

"Please don't hurt me mister," she says approaching him," I just want you…"

Shepard curses himself for being unable to react but he is entranced by the female, his gun falling from his hands.

The female embraces him, feeling his body, her mouth within inches of his neck. Shepard is mesmerized by the touch and scent of the female, his body shuddering.

The female smiles as she prepares to bit into his flesh, "too easy."

She is just about to bite, her teeth inches from his neck.

"Skipper!"

Ashley's voice tears Shepard out of his reverie, pushing the female away, but not before she is able to sample his blood.

Shepard screams in agony as the female tears a piece of flesh from his neck. It isn't a fatal wound and isn't deep, but it hurts nonetheless.

The female, never tasting the rich blood of someone like Shepard before, enters a blood frenzy, roaring for more as she resumes her attack.

But this time Shepard is ready. He bends to one knee, grasping his boot knife in one hand and jabbing upwards, piercing the female's heart.

The female utters a gasp of surprise as she collapses in Shepard's arms. Reverently, Shepard eases her to the ground, looking into her eyes as they slowly glaze over. Almost as if to grieve him more, the female in her final moments, almost retains her human look. Her eyes, the standard reaper cold blue-grey, have transformed into a light green. Her skin pigment has change as well, regaining some of its former color. But then she dies and the image is lost. The eyes have died again and her pigment grew pale once again. Whether it was a reaction of the virus or simply Shepard's mind playing tricks, it brings back old memories. Memories once locked away in the deepest hole in his mind.

Shepard can barley look at her as he stands, retrieving his blade. He looks over and sees Ashley, outlined by the raging inferno behind her, a worried look on her face. He throws a weak smile and climbs back into the hole.

Standing atop of his throne, Harbinger watches with contempt as the last of his warriors die. His head drops in respect for the fallen, his eyes closed attempting to remember the faces of those Shepard had killed. Sadly he cannot.

He returns to his normal powerful image and turns to Vigil.

"Sound the retreat."

The warrior lieutenant balks at the order.

"Leave? We can't! He is wounded. I say we all go. He cannot stop all of us."

Harbinger shakes his head, "He can and will. Even if that meant sacrificing himself in the process," he turns to leave, giving the battlefield one last look, "We'll be back."

"Cowards! You're all cowards!" the lieutenant screams in frustration.

Harbinger, with a growl, seizes her by the neck and lifts her up into the air as if she was a rag doll.

"Me? A coward!" he heaves her several feet away. "Who else?" he taunts scanning the faces of the assembled warriors, "who else dare defy me!"

None move.

"Shepard does not understand the place of things! He is but dust struggling against cosmic winds! In the end, it won't matter. I am the harbinger of his ascendance, of his destiny. Shepard will fall. One way or another."

With that, Harbinger and his army turns and leaves.

Inside the safety of his house, Shepard sits in his living room, adjacent to the kitchen, on a sofa with a stick of tobacco cradled in his fingers, his eyes drifting out into space, lost in his own private world.

"Those things can kill you, you know?"

Shepard laughs at the irony of the statement. He takes a drag and allows the blue-grey smoke to float towards the ceiling. The man and Ashley take a seat across from him.

"I came this close tonight," Shepard said holding up his thumb and pointer finger less than an inch apart, "but you saved me. So say what you want, I'll listen."

There was silence for a moment.

"We want to help you Shepard," the man said, "We want you to succeed."

Shepard takes another gulp, well on his way his way to becoming drunk, "Succeed at what Kaiden?"

Kaiden smiles, "your mission, your survival."

"Why?"

"It's part of the plan. The plan needs you to hang on for a bit longer," Kaiden spoke.

Shepard laughed, "Plan! You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

"We're serious skipper," replied Ashley, "all of this has happened for a reason. You survived for a reason."

Shepard stared at the floor for a minute.

"I survived… not because of some plan from some absent deity," he spat, "I survived because I was the fastest, the smartest, and the strongest."

He paused again.

"You're not really Ashley are you," he said to the woman, "and you're not Kaiden."

Kaiden smiled, "Does it matter?"

Shepard tossed the burning cancer stick to the ground, jumping to his feet, "It fucking matters! Ashley Williams is dead! Kaiden Alenko is dead! Jacob Taylor, James Vega, Kasumi Goto, Marcus Toombs, Richard Jenkins, Zaeed Massani… all dead! There is no one but me! I'd be dead too if I wasn't such a pussy and put a bullet in my head!"

"Shepard don't-"

"SHUT UP! I'm done being haunted by these fucking illusions. If I am going crazy can I please go crazy the quiet way," he half yelled, half begged.

"You're not crazy John," Ashley said rising from her seat and placing a hand on his shoulder, "and we're not illusions. Yeah you're crazy but not in the way you think you are."

Shepard scoffed, "Not crazy… not illusions… I swear if you tell me you're Angels sent by god I might actually shoot myself."

Kaiden rose to his feet, "Regardless of titles, we're here to make sure the plan happens the way it is supposed to happen. The world is quieter now… all you have to do is listen."

"Listen… to the plan… to god's plan?" Shepard asked. Ashley responded by nodding her head.

"Alright, let me tell you about you're god's plan," Shepard said walking over to the window, "There were 7.5 billion people on the planet when the infection hit. The virus had a 95 percent kill rate, that's seven billion one hundred and twenty five million people dead… crashed and bled out, dead," Shepard said emphasizing his point by smacking the wall.

"The virus left a one percent immunity. That left me and seven million other perfectly healthy people. Hell right there we could have survived but no. God," he said making air quotes around the word god, "decided to throw another card."

Shepard walked towards them anger in his eyes. Frustration regarding his situation boiling past their limits. Long held beliefs finally getting air.

"Another one percent became like those reapers outside. They declared themselves the master race and waged a war on any immune survivor they could find. The other 22 **million** turned into those ferals outside. And then they got hungry and then they fed and they killed everybody."

The two ghosts remained motionless.

"Everybody! Ever person I have ever loved or known is **DEAD**! **DEAD**!"

He jabs an accusing finger at the two images of his former comrades.

"There is no god… and I **am** alone, despite what you say," Shepard finished and returned to the couch.

Kaiden and Ashley both exchanged looks of disappointment.

"There is a god Shepard," Kaiden finally answered, "it may not be what you think or expect. It's just not as nice as you like to believe it is."

Shepard chuckled, "kind of blasphemous aren't you?"

Ashley smiled comfortingly, "Goodbye skipper, you won't hear from us for a while."

"Where are you going?" Shepard asked.

"To prepare. We're soon to have guests."

_**Author's Note:  
>Come On! Can you blame me? The temptation was just too great. I did it, get over it.<br>Any problemo,s questions, or constructive criticism, lay em on me.  
>Next Chapter, Liara's back!<strong>_

_**Tune in next time for Mass Effect Chapter Seven!**_


	7. Chapter 7

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

Wow, thank you for the reviews and your thoughts. The dark nature of this fic is something I am trying to get across. Liara eventually meeting Shepard will be happening soon. I just hope I am able to convey it the way everyone is expecting. I hope not to disappoint.

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Citadel  
>Serpent System, Widow Nebula<br>2032 C.E. **

Liara sighed in relief as she stepped off of the Thessia's Wrath and onto the Citadel. Three hours of being stuck inside the port observation deck will virtually nothing to do had given her a cooped up feeling. However, stepping into the docking bay of Zakera Ward she lost that feeling and her previous anticipation of her new mysterious mission replaced it.

If Liara was made of lesser fortitude she would have collapsed to her knees and kissed the cold hard metal ground. But the very idea of putting her lips on the same place that hundreds of thousands of tourists had walked on nipped that idea in the butt.

"Its good to be home," Shiala said walking up, stretching her arms out wide and wiping her eyes clear of her after sleep state. Liara was a bit jealous at that statement. She had no home. Her home, if one would call it that, would be wherever the CRC would send her. While most would find that odd, Liara found it relaxing. Being the one to unearth the secrets of the galaxy was much more appealing than settling down and working some underpaying job. She loved her work and wouldn't trade it for anything.

Liara was overly thankful Shiala never followed up on her promise to give Liara the talk. Instead the asari maiden had collapsed into a chair and had passed out soon after. While Liara was grateful for her friend's interest, Shiala falling asleep left Liara with nothing to do but think.

She thought of Therum and the attack, her mother and if she was told that her only daughter nearly died, and of course the new mission. She sat there for hours just thinking and slightly pondered if she now had post traumatic stress. She read about it in plenty of journals and scientific essays but never actually met anyone with it.

Apparently, it was a result of someone undergoing a massively stressful environment and they would be forever haunted by whatever they had experienced. Liara never expected that she could have it but it would make sense. Seeing her colleagues die on Therum was definitely stressful and horrific. But she doubted that it adversely affected her they way she had read about. After all it wasn't the first time her life was up for grabs nor was it the first time she had encountered the Lichen. Hell it wasn't even the first time she had seen someone die.

Liara was sure she would be fine and maybe this new mission would help ease her back into normalcy.

"Miss T'Soni?"

Liara turned half surprised that someone would address her in that manner. She saw one of the turian SpecTre's approaching her.

"Nihlus, right?" she asked.

"I see I was able to make a good impression. Nihlus Kryik, a pleasure," he introduced with the same bow as he had before.

"Liara T'Soni, and please, just call me Liara," she replied returning the gesture with a slight blush.

Shiala watched as the two now entered a rather uncomfortable silence. Being the friend that she was she quickly dived in to save the conversation.

"Nihlus, are you going to the Committee building?"

"I am," he said quickly grateful for the awkwardness to end, "apparently I was also called for this mission."

Shiala smiled, "then do you mind walking Liara over there? I have to stop by someplace first."

Liara suddenly felt nauseous, "You don't need help with anything," she asked desperately trying to get out of the situation her friend just put her in.

"Nope," was all Shiala answered with. That and that sly look she was throwing in Liara's direction that basically told her not to screw this up.

Nihlus watched with amusement as the one asari basically shoved the other towards him and walked away with a giggle.

"You're friend is, rather lively," he spoke.

"That she is," Liara simply commented watched her friend slowly walk out of sight.

After a few moments, Nihlus found his voice, "we should probably get moving."

Liara shook her head as if acknowledging his presence for the first time. She nodded, awkwardly smiling at him and walked towards the CRC headquarters.

"You know, I was hoping we would have a chance to talk," he said breaking the silence after a moment.

"What about?"

"This mission we're going on, I know next to nothing about it. I was wondering if you knew anything at all."

"Sadly I don't. I was in the field as you know and I haven't heard much in the way of fact."

"Any theories," he asked.

"It could be a new ruin, although why they would send two SpecTre's on that kind of mission doesn't make sense. Or it could be first Contact with a new species, but I am hardly qualified for such a mission and the CRC would not be heading it. To be frank, I have no idea what this new mission entails but I will admit that I am rather excited."

Liara watched as her new turian friend nodded, keeping his eyes forward. Liara wished that she could tell what he was thinking. The SpecTres were the best operatives the Council had at their disposal. Why he and his compatriot would be on the mission gave her more questions than answers.

"You seem thoughtful."

Nihlus' question brought her back from her daydream, something she realized she was doing more and more of lately.

"I was just wondering, you seem very knowledgeable about asari traditions," Liara lied.

Nihlus nodded, "as a SpecTre I need that knowledge. There are many species out here, each with their own customs and traditions. Take the turians for example. Each of our clans all have their own languages, customs, warriors, songs… each is unique. There are sixty five million clans in the galaxy, I know them all."

"Which do you belong to?" Liara asked. She had never spoken to a turian like this before and began finding it fascinating.

"Clan Kryik. It was started by my grandfather two and a half centuries ago when he put down a pirate raid with just four ships. He started his own clan and has been in existence ever since."

"I see. And how long have you been a SpecTre?"

To her surprise, Nihlus chuckled, "not too long I'm afraid. I was just recently appointed."

"How does that work. I mean, SpecTre's are born not trained, right?" Liara asked remembering the age old motto for the SpecTres.

"I see you're well informed. Yes, SpecTres are not trained they are born in the fires of combat. When the Council wants to appoint a new SpecTre they would read over several dossiers, picking out which ones they like and then sending those ones out to the agents in the field. SpecTres give birth to SpecTres. When one, like me, is chosen, the agent who recommended them becomes their observer, seeing if they have what it takes."

"And do you?"

"Why would I say anything but yes?" Nihlus asked charmingly.

Soon the two found themselves at the entrance to the CRC, the words Council Reclamation Committee Headquarters, was displayed in bright translucent letters. Waiting outside were two Citadel Security officers, a turian and a Salarian.

"Are Dr. T'Soni?" the Salarian asked.

"I am."

"Please follow me. You're the last to arrive and the Committee is anxious to get the briefing underway."

Nihlus and Liara followed the Salarian inside and into the CRC lobby. The lobby itself was circular and three stories high, as high as the building itself. The lobby floors had the same silver color that dominated most of the citadel but the walls were a plain sterile white. In the middle was a desk where an asari secretary was busy greeting guests and others arriving for work. Behind her were two sets of twin stairs, separated in the middle by an elevator.

The trio walked right up to the secretary, "Inform the committee that Liara T'Soni and Agent Kryik have arrived," the salarian instructed

Shortly an asari CRC representative came bouncing down the stairs and motioned for them to follow her. She led them into the elevator and commanded it to head to the third floor.

Annoyingly the elevator was ridiculously slow as it crawled upwards. The way Nihlus was fidgeting in place gave her the assumption that he too shared her grievance.

Finally, the elevator stopped and opened. The representative led them past several offices and CRC employees, each engaged in similar conversations about what the briefing was going to be about.

The trio shortly arrived at a doubled door room that was guarded by two more c-sec officers. The representative flashed an ID card and the officers allowed the three to pass.

Inside the room was occupied by plenty of people and bustling with activity. Arranged in a circular manner, there were five rows of seats forming a radius around a large podium next to a holographic image projector. The rows were separated by two paths, one leading to the entrance, the other leading to another door at the other end.

"The briefing will begin shortly, please find a place to sit while you wait," the asari told them and left.

"I trust that we'll talk later?" asked Nihlus.

"Of course," Liara responded nervously as Nihlus walked towards the opposite door and vanished from view.

Judging by the fact that no one was seated, Liara entered the room and looked around. Salarians, turians, a couple krogan, asari, even an Elcor and a quarian; it seemed that the CRC was sparing no expense on this mission.

Liara was simply awed by the vast array of genius and military personal that was conglomerated here. She recognized several from her Therum mission, even spotting Shiala talking to a rather odd looking Salarian, who was dressed in a white, red, and black lab coat and missing his right horn.

"Excuse me, are Dr. T'Soni?" asked a rather high pitched nearly mechanical voice.

Liara turned and found herself face to face with the quarian she spotted earlier. Liara had never met a quarian before although she had seen them on some of her more off the grid missions. The quarian was dressed in a purple environment suit that all quarian wore that was adorned with various designs that gave it an almost prestigious look. The visor, which betrayed nothing behind it besides a pair of slanted silver eyes that almost seemed to glow and a vague looking nose, was purple as well. Liara was tempted to ask the quarian what its favorite color was but decided against it.

"Yes?" Liara asked.

"HI, my name is Tali, Tali Zora nar Rayya, and I am so glad to meet you," the quarian introduced.

Liara stood there for a minute, "um… thank you."

"I read your thesis on drive cores and I must say that you're prognosis was unbelievable."

"You're into ships?"

"Yup, as a quarian, ships mean life especially in the flotilla."

Again Liara found herself starring, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude but what is a quarian doing here?"

The quarian, Tali, nodded in understanding, "trust me, I feel the same way. But when they told me that they needed a skilled operating engineer for a top secret mission how could I refuse? This is a chance of a lifetime and maybe I'll find something to bring back to the fleet, with the CRC's permission of course."

"Bring something back? For what?"

"For my pilgrimage, the quarian rite of passage. When a quarian reaches a certain age, they are sent to prove themselves and their worth and acquire something for fleet to use towards its survival."

Seeing the confused look on Liara's face, Tali cleared her throat so she could explain it better.

"When a young quarian reaches a certain age they must leave their birth ship for a new one, to help spread genetic material and people. To prove ourselves worthy, we must seek out resources or materials or similar things of value. When they return they offer the gift to their new captain and join their new family."

Liara nodded, "Do they always accept?"

"Yes, mainly out of tradition, but if you brought something back that isn't that helpful you'll give off a bad impression."

"I see, well it was a pleasure meeting you Tali," Liara bowed her head.

"And you as well, Dr. T'Soni," Tali bowed back and returned to her seat and opened her omni-tool, reading whatever was on it with interest. Liara noticed with disdain that an actual circle of people formed around her, not wanting to get too close. Liara was familiar with the stories of quarians that portrayed them as vagrants or thieves, but actually getting to talk to one such as Tali, that stigma couldn't possibly be true. The young quarian seemed very young and could not be part of that stereotype.

Liara turned and walked over to Shiala and her missing horned friend. As she drew closer she realized the two were in a heated debate, similar to the ones she and Liara would have back in the University.

"I'm telling you, the Krogan are bluffing. There won't be a war."

"Ah, but data proves contrary. Would be tragic if such events played out," the Salarian inhaled sharply, "disastrous."

As Liara approached, both Shiala and her Salarian counterpart both turned to greet her.

"Liara, thank the goddess, please help me convince this guy that the Krogan aren't as dangerous as everyone says!" Shiala half screamed and half begged.

The Salarian laughed, holding up his hands in surrender, "I feel that my welcome is overdue. Debating the actions of the Krogan with the great Dr. T'Soni would be rather hazardous to my ego. Do not wish to lose so publically."

"You know me?"

"Every one with interest in the fields of science and archeology should know of you. Report on Protheans disappearance, thesis on drive cores, study of ancient and extinct life throughout galaxy… marvelous."

Liara had to shake her head. This guy talked a mile a minute and her translator even seemed to not be able to keep up.

"Forgive me," the Salarian back away slightly, "I am Mordin Solus, geneticist, professor, and occasional singer if such things peek you interest. Was having debate with Shiala here on affects of Krogan expansion… implications are disturbing."

This time it was Liara's turn to raise her hands in surrender, "I feel you have me at a disadvantage, I know nothing of the Krogan expansion patterns to give an educated answer."

Mordin smiled, "a scientist with humility… can die happy now. Off topic question, is your mother Matriarch Benezia?"

Liara nodded.

"Assumed as much. Looking forward to working with you doctor. Am excited about upcoming mission."

Mordin politely dismissed himself from the conversation. Both Shiala and Liara looked at each other as if a ninja had just kamikazied their brains.

"That guy… was interesting," Shiala said with a laugh before turning back to Liara, "so how was your walk?"

Liara turned with her brow furrowed, "We're having five minutes of silence. I am still angry for you putting me in that situation."

Expectedly, Shiala laughed, "I'm sorry hun, I was trying to help."

"When I need your help I will ask for it."

Liara turned to walk away but found herself bumping into what felt like a stone wall.

"Watch it," roared a very large Krogan dressed in silver armor with a giant shotgun strapped to his back. His head crest was all red but his eyes were yellow. A near permanent scowl was etched on his face.

"S-Sorry," Liara barely uttered as the Krogan stormed away.

Liara watched as the hulking alien walked towards the window, its massive paw opening it all the way open before opening his maw and sucking in fresh recycled artificial air.

"Are you okay?"

Once again Liara turned to see another Krogan. Unlike his predecessor this one seemed a bit more gentle, as if he were more that just some brute. His crest was red, and his eyes the same. Three parallel scars ran from the top of his crest down his neck before they disappeared under his armor. He was dressed in an all red armor and was holding a helmet in one hand and some food like substance in his other. Judging from the dents, scratches, and burn residue on his armor, coupled with the three scars on his face, Liara was willing to bet this guy fought in the Rachni Wars.

After the wars, the Krogan became viewed as the saviors of the galaxy. It wasn't rare to see them on the citadel even with guns. There was even talk of the Krogan getting a council seat soon. But there were other whispers in the galactic gossip. Rumors that stated the Krogan were expanding faster than any one thought. Liara was no stranger to such news. Even in her conversation with Shiala and Mordin. She had lied about not having the knowledge to make an opinion because she didn't want to fuel the fire. Yes, privately she had her opinion, but that was her business and no one else's. She wasn't going to take sides.

"Sorry about my brother," the Krogan continued, "Wreav tends to get claustrophobic around aliens."

Liara nodded.

"The name's Wrex. I couldn't help but overhear you're conversation with the Salarian. It's relieving that someone would reserve judgment. Far too many don't."

"I learned long ago to form my own opinions. I must admit I don't have much experience with your species. I would not like to meet one holding a negative opinion about them."

"An understandable excuse," Wrex nodded, "but you must excuse me. I need to keep Wreav from killing someone, it tends to complicate things."

Liara stood aside to allow Wrex to pass. So far she was beginning to get nervous about this mission. Almost as if she was in over her head. Already she had met three of the most diverse people she had ever met in her life. And the mission hadn't even started yet!

Before the thought could continue, the lights in the room dimmed, a sign that the briefing was about to begin. Everyone stopped talking and headed for an empty seat. Liara saw an empty seat, more like row, next to the quarian, Tali. She walked over and seated herself next to the young suited alien, who was at first startled that someone was sitting next to her. But when she recognized Liara, who threw a comforting smile, she calmed and turned her focus to the empty podium before the group. Shiala seated herself next to Liara not too much later, throwing daggers with her eyes at the quarian who either noticed them and ignored it or didn't notice at all.

Finally the soft pounding of footsteps made everyone turn towards the door that sat on the other side of the room. Entering the room was an Elcor, an asari, a volus, the two turian SpecTres and… the Council?

Walking behind the group were the three most powerful beings in the galaxy. Councilor Valern, the tough almost smug looking turian councilor, Matriarch Tevos, the friendly diplomatic asari councilor, and Councilor won't-even-attempt-trying-to-pronounce-his-name, the stoic Salarian councilor, each stood at attention near the SpecTres, their heads held high in authority.

That feeling that she was in over her head returned to Liara instantly.

The elcor reached the podium and addressed the crowd around him.

"Greetings, my name is Director Pax, anxious, this briefing is hereby begun. Grateful, thank you for coming under short notice. Dismayed, we are sorry for any inconvenience you have suffered."

The elcor turned to his volus colleague.

"Impatient, allow me to introduce Director Foka Grim," the elcor introduced allowing the volus to shimmy his way up the podium.

"Good afternoon, _hiss_, I am director, hiss, Foka Grim, _hiss_, and welcome to, _hiss_, the Council Reclamation Committee, _hiss_, headquarters."

Foka Grim pushed a button on the podium and the lights dimmed to their fullest as the holographic display turned on. The image of two mass relays appeared.

"Two weeks ago, _hiss_, a Salarian exploratory probe, _hiss_, opened a dormant relay, _hiss_, and discovered its sister, _hiss_, in a distant system that we, _hiss_, have named the Local Cluster." The relays' projection disappeared and was replaced by a solar system consisting of nine planets.

"After exiting the relay, _hiss_, the probe discovered this solar system, _hiss_, consisting of nine planets. We, _hiss_, have named this the, _hiss_, Sol System."

The image zoomed in on the third planet from the sun showing a small blue-green planet.

"This planet, _hiss_, was discovered shortly after. We have, _hiss_, dubbed this planet, _hiss_, Sol Prime, _hiss_. Utilizing images captured from orbit, _hiss_, we have found ruins dotting, _hiss_, most of the planet's, _hiss_, surface."

"Among this, _hiss_, we have discovered radio, _hiss_, signals originating from, _hiss_, the planet. Any attempt, _hiss_, to return a message, _hiss_, has ended in, _hiss_, failure. We assume, _hiss_, that whatever race, _hiss_, inhabited this, planet, _hiss_, are long extinct. You, _hiss_, are going to be, _hiss_, the first to step foot, _hiss_, on Sol Prime, _hiss_, and study the ruins. After, _hiss_, we can accurately, _hiss_, determine whether, _hiss_, or not we can colonize this, _hiss_, planet."

The assembled people began talking amongst themselves in speculation. The image disappeared and the lights returned to normal.

"The Thessia's Wrath, _hiss_, captain has volunteered her, _hiss_, ship to ferry you, _hiss_, there. Captain Andralla?"

The volus stepped down and allowed the asari captain to take his place.

"Thank you, Director Foka Grim. The Thessia's Wrath will be leaving in four hours. Once we arrive, a selected team will head down to the surface first and see if it is safe. After, the rest of you will head down and begin you analysis. The mission will be long and will take a long time. It is estimated that we will be there for a couple years. So say goodbye to whoever you wish, you will not see them for a while. Now I will accept questions."

A salarian from behind Liara raised his hand.

"Is the atmosphere breathable?"

"According to our scans, the atmosphere is in fact breathable so no; you will not require EVA gear. Next?"

"You said you found radio signals coming from the planet. Do we know what they say?"

"Our tech's are working on a translation right now. But there was a video accompanying it if you wish to view it."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the room like wild fire. After a series of commands, the room dimmed again and the projector turned on.

Liara and many others sat gasped when a… creature appeared before them. It looked very similar to an asari but instead of the asari tendrils on its head, it had tufts of fur on its skull and a small square bit under its nose… or what Liara assumed was its nose.

The creature appeared to speaking to a stadium of creature similar to it. There were many flags positioned around the speaking creature but the one that stood out the most was located directly behind the speaker. It was all dark with a light circle in the middle. In the center of the circle seemed to be an equilateral cross with its arms bent at right angles and painted black, or what Liara assumed was a dark color since the image was in black and white. After a few minutes, Andralla shut the video off and the lights returned.

"This among many other files are being transmitted from the planet by some automated source. What that is we cannot tell."

"What is it saying?" asked someone from the crowd.

"We do not know but like I said our techs are working on a rough translation as we speak."

The questions continued for another hour. Each one was similar to the previous one. Each person assembled wanted to know what happened to these creatures but Andralla wouldn't tell or didn't know. Either way, she made it clear that whatever they were, they were gone.

By that time, the Council had left as well as Director Pax. The two turians had stayed for a while longer before leaving as well. By the time the briefing was declared over, Foka Grim too had departed.

"I suggest all of you gather whatever supplies you need and say goodbye to whatever loved one you have. As a precaution, life-wills are mandatory. Don't let the ones you love miss out on 5000 credits if you accidently fall down some hole or something. The Wrath leaves in four hours, I'll see you all aboard."

With that Andralla left.

She talked to a few people before leaving as well. With only another three or four hours left to go before the Thessia's Wrath launched she wanted to make sure she was ready.

Liara walked alone down the narrow street of the Zakara Ward in thought, pausing to grab some supplies from a couple stores. She was about to enter a restaurant and grab some food, when a public terminal kiosk caught her eye.

She walked to it and paused. Should she call her?

Liara typed in the phone address and held the public communicator to her ear.

It rang three times before a VI answered.

"Please state name."

"Liara T'Soni," she answered.

"Purpose of call?"

"To speak with Matriarch Benezia… my mother."

The line paused a moment before ringing.

"Hello-"

"Mom, its me," Liara greeted.

"-please leave you name and a brief message and I will return you're call," responded the answering service.

Liara's heart sank, "Mom… its Liara. I'm going away for awhile, off the grid. I won't be able to talk to you for some time…"

She paused there for a moment.

"…Goodbye."

And she hung up the communicator and walked away. With rapid haste she approached the Thessia's Wrath and boarded the ship. She entered the CIC and looked around. It was rather empty. Most of the crew off enjoying what is be their last shore leave for a while.

Liara turned and smiled when she Nihlus entering the CIC. He returned the gesture and approached her, ready for their next discussion.

Standing some distance away, looking at the duo talk and mildly flirt through the cockpit's bow windows were two bipedal creatures, although their actual forms were covered in some shadow.

"She has no idea what she getting into." spoke one.

"Does she have a choice?" the other replied.

"No… I guess it doesn't matter. Hopefully she can survive."

"She doesn't know it but she is the only chance humanity has of survival."

"True but that feat isn't hers alone to bear," said one to the other, "Everything is going accordingly to plan."

With that the two vanished as if they were never there to begin with.

Three hours later, the Thessia's Wrath broke free of her magnetic docking clamps and headed off into pace. Aboard its passengers were eager and excited to start this new journey. What they didn't realize were the perils that awaited them.

_**Author's note:  
>Okay so the story is beginning to move along. Again thank you for the reviews they mean a great deal to writers, kind of like crack for a junkie, I just can't get enough… not funny.<br>The video that was played is of Hitler addressing the 1936 summer Olympics in Berlin which was the first globally televised event… ironic huh?  
>Any comment, questions, or concerns let me know and hopefully I can put your fears to rest.<br>Thank you for reading and we at Black Box Inc. are happy that you are enjoying this. Stay tuned for Chapter Eight of Mass Effect Infection!**_


	8. Chapter 8

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

A shout out to those that have reviewed or otherwise commented. You're support gives me the strength to keep going.  
>I also just managed to download the Mass Effect 3 demo… it was fucking awesome. The musical score at the end of the first part of the story was epic and the multiplayer is certainly addictive. If you don't have it yet, go do so now, you won't be disappointed.<p>

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

**Earth  
>March 7<strong>**th**** 3032  
>San Francisco, CA<br>Shepard Residence**

Dawn came early the next morning, the sun slowly creeping over the ruined buildings and infrastructure of San Francisco, its penetrating lights touching everything. Those not touched by the sun's illuminating rays remained in shadow, giving refuge to the new dominate forms of life that now plague the planet.

The reapers had long since departed from Shepard's home, the bodies of those that had fallen outside the perimeter had been dragged away. Those inside have been left to smolder in the early morning light, their bodies turned to ashen husks. The ring of fire from the gasoline pit had too dissolved leaving a cloud of thick black smoke in its wake.

Shepard sits in his safe room sitting in his meditative manner. Although today there is no muttering or attempts at peace of mind. He sits; legs crossed and head drooped low, fast asleep. His eyes, hidden behind closed lids, dance around as Shepard dreams.

The alarm from his watch makes him jump awake, his hand instinctively reaching for a gun that isn't there. As his mind reaches reality, he realizes he is in no danger and relaxes. He stands and opens the window, unlocking the shutter, and takes in the morning rays, watching the sunrise in an almost religious manner.

Finally, with his early morning service complete, Shepard begins his daily vigil of workouts, listening to the strings of Beethoven's fifth. After, he heads into the shower and dons a fresh pair of cloths. He makes himself breakfast, oatmeal with strawberries, and glass of water.

However, as he goes to return the strawberries to the fridge, he realizes that he's running low and heads to his greenhouse. He removes the steel shutters covering the greenhouse and allows the plant life inside to relish in photosynthesis. As he picks fresh berries, his gaze is caught by an array of flowers, white lilies. He stands there, taken aback by their simple beauty.

After, Shepard finds himself picking up the shards from the picture he ruined in last night's frenzy, ceremoniously making sure not to ruin the picture underneath. He puts the picture in a new frame and spends a few minutes toying with it until in is level on the wall. He stands back, looking at the picture itself and is captivated by it, the little girl in particular. His head turns as he stares at the unopened wooden door. He curses when he sees that the porcelain unicorn had fallen in wake of some explosion. He continues picking up the pieces and tosses them in a trash bin. Again he finds himself unwilling to open the door, his hand stuck firmly on the handle. When he lets go, there is a remainder of sweat from his hand still clung onto it.

He heads down to his armory and deposits the weapons he used the night before, making sure there are no blemishes or inner workings that need repair. He turns on his little camera and pushes record, taking a seat before it, ready to begin his daily journal.

"My name is John Shepard; I was born in 1990 in Des Moines, Iowa. I had a wife named Gianna, a daughter… Ellie."

He pauses, looking for the words.

"There was twenty five last night… Tonight they will mourn and I will have peace and there will be no attack. But tomorrow… tomorrow it'll start all over again."

He stares into the camera.

"Why doesn't he just give up?" he thinks, "Why don't you John? Why don't you?"

An hour later Shepard begins clearing the premises of the dead reapers. With a rag covering his mouth and a pair of goggles covering his eyes, he lifts each individually over his shoulder and places them in the trunk and roof of the humvee. He pulls the reaper husk from the moat, barely able to tolerate the stench.

With the bodies of the fallen loaded, Shepard enters the humvee and departs. He passes through the dead city with mild attention, weaving in out of the wrecked cars and collapsed buildings with ease.

The humvee turns off California Street just below Highway One and onto the grounds of the Presidio. Like many relics from the world of ten years ago this place looks as if a small war was fought here. Shepard doesn't give the destruction the attention it deserves as he steers the humvee into what was once an army golf course. A ruined sign at the entrance reads:

U.S. GOVERNMENT CENTER FOR DISEASE CONTROL  
>EMERGENCY CREMATION CENTER.<p>

Shepard arrives at what looks to be a giant pit. It looks as if god himself came down and carved out a piece of the landscape for himself, the ashen remains and bones of hundreds, if not thousands of people lay at the bottom. Looking around, Shepard can see dozens of similar pits, each containing the remnant of those who had once been living thriving people. The sheer desolation of this place causes Shepard to pause. In his inner eye, he remembers the first time he had to look at this place, or at the very least the first time he looked upon it with meaning.

Shepard lines up the dead reapers and ferals in a neat row along the edge of the pit. He douses them with gasoline and individually kicks them over the edge. When the last abomination hits the bottom, Shepard retrieves a Molotov cocktail and lights the cloth hanging from it with a lighter. He tosses the homemade explosive into the pit and watches as the flames dance around the bodies of the creatures. Before leaving he heads into his truck and pulls a small batch of white lilies he saw earlier. He tosses them in as well.

"I love you Ellie…"

Without another word he climbs back into his vehicle and drives off, not giving the place another glance.

Again, Shepard sits upon his bench in Golden Gate Park. He checks his watch: 12:56. He looks around and sees nothing save for the barren wasteland that this place had become. In a fit of anger he stands at screams at the sky. Frustration and despair fuels his rage.

He enters his truck and drives off, speeding down the streets with purpose.

The humvee abruptly stops before a cemetery. Another sign greets him, sitting alone along a chain link fence covered in barbed wire:

ABSOLUTELY NO ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT BY ORDER OF THE U.S. NATIONAL GUARD.  
>TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT ON SITE.<p>

Shepard drives up regardless, ignoring the threat that no one is able to carry out anymore. He shifts through his trench coat pockets and retrieves his chain of keys. He disembarks and opens the gate.

The graveyard looks like something out of a horror movie. Graves have been dug up and vaults ripped open. Those that have remained untouched are covered in biohazard warning labels and taped off.

With his hand comfortably resting on the handle of his .44, Shepard proceeds through the yard, taking in the sights. His head shakes in disgust. Many of these graves and tombs were looted by grave robbers, attempting to steal what valuables the dead had carried with them into the afterlife. Others were opened by family, attempting to give their dead a proper service of their own before the world went entirely to shit.

Shepard stops before a tomb guarded by stone angels, their hands spread outwards towards heaven as if waiting for Christ to come and wash away this unclean world. Shepard walks up the steps to the vault door. He pauses hesitantly. Whatever he is about to do seems difficult for him.

The door opens with a creak, lights flowing into the crypt like water bursting from a dam. Shepard's hands come up to shield his face from the many spider webs that have been made inside. He enters, eyes fixated on a stone coffin that rests in the middle of the small room. A small vase of dead flowers rests atop of it. Shepard kneels before it almost as if he was to pray.

"It was my birthday yesterday Gianna. Forty two," he chuckles, "hell, you wouldn't even recognize me. I almost in better shape that when we first met."

"Do you remember? We were just pushing into Iran when someone told me that we'd be getting a CIA liaison. I was furious. The N7s were a UN organization with no national oversight and yet… there you were. Yeah we bumped heads, and I'm sure you despised my presence as much as I did yours. But look what that led to: five years of marriage and a beautiful daughter…"

He pauses, tears flowing freely down his face.

"My god… I can't do this anymore… I'm just so goddamn tired…"

He wipes away his tears and attempts to regain his composure.

"Ellie would be twelve next month right? That's a big birthday for a kid."

Again the tears flow. Shepard's head hangs low, his body shuddering in between sobs.

"I just… I miss you both so much… I'm so sorry I failed you."

Shepard sits there, his cries echoing in the once silent crypt.

**Asari Republic Frigate**  
><strong>Thessia's Wrath<strong>  
><strong>In Transit from Citadel to Sol Prime<strong>

To say that the scientist, crew and military personnel aboard the Thessia's Wrath were excited would be an understatement. It seemed that even those not on the ground mission were looking forward to the mission, even just to say that they were a part of it.

Liara stood solitary in the port observation deck, staring out of the observation window, taking in all the colors coming off the ship as it traveled in FTL. It was a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors of every kind. How they formed, Liara did not know, but when one can pause and take stock of the beauty of the universe, one didn't complain.

"Dr. T'Soni please report to the CIC. Dr. T'Soni please report to the CIC," a voice ordered over the ship's PA system.

Liara nodded and turned away from the view. The door to the observatory slid open as she entered the hallway, almost bumping into a couple crewmen carrying a large box of supplies Lira no doubt contained vital resources for the ground team.

Liara traveled down the hallway, pausing only to get out of someone's way as they ferried supplies down to the hanger where the shuttle that would carry the ground team to the planet waited.

Liara finally arrived at the CIC; the guard on duty saluted her as she passed. Captain Andralla's head perked up at the asari's presence and walked towards her.

"Dr. T'Soni, I am glad to see you. I just received word over a long range comm. buoy from the CRC. According to them you will be the lead scientist down on the surface."

"I see," Liara said with a hint of pride.

Andralla brought up a map and highlighted a ruin that rested in the north western hemisphere, just resting on the edge of the ocean.

"This will be our first landing point. The soldiers I have assigned to you will set up a perimeter and base of operations. Once they complete that objective, you will take a small team to begin exploring the ruins. Any questions?"

"Soldiers?"

Andralla nodded, "we have no idea what to expect on the surface. In my experience it's better to be safe than sorry."

Liara nodded in understanding, "Who will lead them?"

"Well, the two SpecTres will be going but we have a guy on loan from C-Sec who will be heading the conscripts. From his dossier he used to be turian military and has one of the most outstanding records I have seen to date. Pirate suppression campaigns, raids on slaver worlds, you name it, this guy's done it. To be honest, why he is working C-Sec is beyond me."

Liara nodded once again, "Anything else?"

"Not at the moment doctor," Andralla said before reaching for a data pad, "everyone serving under you is on this data pad. Get to know you're team and then head down to the hanger deck. We'll be arriving-"

"Captain," said the helmsman, "exiting FTL in 3…2…1…"

Liara felt a sense of vertigo as the ship entered real space. What was once a beautiful and vast array of colors created from traveling in FTL, now was replaced with a small blue-green planet that hung in space as if it was attached to a bit of thread.

Although she had seen the planet before, from scans taken by the salarian probe, seeing it before her eyes was something else. It was majestic and beautiful, a testament to power that had created it all those billions of years ago.

What she didn't expect was the debris that was stuck in orbit around it.

"Status report," ordered Andralla.

"Systems look clear captain. Drift is just under 1500k. Board is green," relayed the executive officer.

"Very good, put us in geosynchronous orbit over the drop zone."

"Aye Captain."

Liara walked slowly to the bow windows, mesmerized by the planet.

"Goddess, was there a battle here?" asked the helmsman in a low tone as she began to position the ship over the designated drop zone.

"Who knows but that debris field is going to cause us problems," answered the navigator sitting at her console a meter away.

"Do we have any idea where these guys went or why this entire planet is empty?"

"Well," answered the navigator, "that's what we're here to find out."

Liara turned away from the window and made her way to the elevator that would carry her to the hanger deck. Inside the elevator she reviewed the names that would be on her team as well as the soldiers that would be accompanying her.

Mordin Solus, Shiala, a salarian named Maelon, Tali Zora and many others would be on her team. Nihlus Kryik, Saren Arterius, Urdnot Wrex, Urdnot Wreav, and another dozen salarian, asari, and turian conscripts would be on the defense team. All in all there were about thirty people that would be joining her and for that she felt relatively safe. If they ran into any trouble, there would be many around to help, unlike Therum were the team was just a couple scientists with next to zero combat training.

Liara chastised herself. She was being paranoid. The planet is empty and she'll be fine, she kept telling herself. But she couldn't help but feel a little dread and fear that seemed to emulate the planet itself.

Thankfully her thoughts were interrupted as the elevator opened to reveal the hanger. The shuttle she and the ground team would use was surrounded by fifteen people, each standing at parade rest. A turian, dressed in blue and black armor with a targeting visor resting over his left eye, was marching before them in inspection.

"You are all here," the turian began, "because you are the best and most qualified for this mission. Before us hangs a small planet where the inhabitants have all disappeared. Our job is to make sure nothing happens to the scientists as they try to figure out why. We'll be here for a while so make sure you carve out a nice piece of real-estate and settle in."

A few assembled let out a soft chuckle.

"Now, pack your things and get them aboard the shuttle," he ended as he took notice of Liara's arrival.

"Dr. T'Soni? Garrus Vakarian, I'll be leading this rabble of conscripts on the surface second only to the two SpecTres. If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

Since Garrus seemed to be in a hurry, Liara thanked him and allowed him to pass by her.

Liara took a moment to watch as the planet before her grew larger as the ship drew nearer. She took in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, hoping it would dull whatever paranoia she was feeling.

Unfortunately it didn't.

_**Author's Note:  
>A rather short chapter compared to the others.<br>Next chapter will be one of many flashbacks Shepard will go through as we explore exactly how the world got the way it is now.  
>After that Liara and her team should be arriving on Earth.<br>Hope you've enjoyed it, stay tuned for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Nine!**_


	9. Chapter 9

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

I just found out that with all its infinite wisdom has decided to go and delete my page breaks. So now I have to go back and separate all the sections. Why can't shit just be simple?

Thank you for the reviews. It means a lot that you all are enjoying this, which means that I seem to be doing something right.

This will be the first flashback chapter, showing in detail how the world slowly collapsed around Shepard.

Since I haven't done this in a while, Mass Effect and its entirety belong to Bioware and EA.

**CHAPTER NINE**

**Earth  
>April 15<strong>**th****, 2022  
>Shepard residence<strong>

The sun of the sol system was high that day, its warmth betraying a innocence humanity takes for granted. The streets are all consumed with people going to and from their destinations in a wide variety of vehicles, or simply walk down the concrete sidewalks.

Sitting on top of a hill surrounded by houses similar to it, is Shepard's home, devoid of the fortress upgrades he will soon painstakingly have to add.

Gianna Shepard, formerly Parasini, lays on her shared Spartan bed, half awake. Her slim dark toned body is barley covered by a silk white sheet. The suns morning rays penetrate through the open windows allowing in a slight breeze coming off the Pacific.

Shepard sits at the edge of the bed with the morning paper in his hands. The TV in front of him is on although his focus is on the black and white ink before him.

"Did you hear about this guy?" he asked his wife when he felt her move behind him.

"What guy?" Gianna asked slowly climbing back into the realm of consciousness.

"Doctor Gavin Archer," Shepard proclaimed, "he's at the university."

Gianna rises from the bed and yawns, swinging both legs over the side, "what about him?"

Shepard chuckles in excitement, "this is unbelievable!"

His wife groans in annoyance, "tell me already!"

"Wow," Shepard exclaimed, clearly more involved in the article than answering his wife, "in theory, it could be a cure for every disease as we know it!"

This peaks Gianna's interest, "what are you talking about?"

"Archer's Viragene," he laughs reading from the paper, "sounds like something you'd buy off an infomercial."

"John."

Shepard looks back at his wife with a smile before turning back to the paper.

"A simple blood cell which has been genetically altered and adhered to a virus," he stops turning to explain, "they started with lung cells a couple years ago but Archer's work is on blood," he continues, "the altered cell is inserted into the bloodstream where it destroys all cancerous cells and, by utilizing the properties of the virus, replaces them with healthy cells," he turns once again, "it eats the disease and makes you healthy," he explained, "Dr. Archer explains that his cure can be applies to all forms of ailments, HIV, other forms of caner, damage to nerves, blindness, you name it."

He pauses as he continues to read.

"So let me get this straight… viruses and genetic engineering?"

Shepard seems to ignore her, "they use the properties of the virus, I guess, so it can travel freely through the bloodstream. But they disable it somehow so it isn't harmful. This is amazing," he said like a child getting a present on Christmas, "and it's buried in depth on page twelve."

Gianna thinks for a moment, "I don't know John; it all seems kind of dangerous."

"Gianna…"

"All these so-called scientific breakthroughs," she said with disbelief, "playing around with the building blocks of life… as a race can we really catch up? I mean we're here," she said put one hand close to her, "and they're miles down the road," she emphasized by motioning with her arm as if to throw something.

"This is a good thing," Shepard assured her, "its how we will advance as a species. Why should we sit back and let people die from diseases we know are curable?"

"Maybe there is supposed to be cancer? Does anyone ever think about that? What if it goes against god's plan?"

Shepard suppressed a scoff. He wasn't as religious as his wife. After spending most of his adult life in the trenches with hot lead flying over him, being an atheist didn't seem practical. Shepard did believe in a god but not in the vengeful and sadistic one that many religions portray. Man in its nature was fallible. How can a fallible creature create something that was infallible? Shepard had no doubt there was a divine being, but one that could stand by and watch millions die every day was something he couldn't wrap his head around.

"I thought god's plan was simple?" he asked slyly.

Gianna watches as Shepard puts down his paper and embraces her.

"To love each other, give a helping hand to someone in need… compassion."

Gianna laughed, "you're and idealist John Shepard. You always have been."

Shepard plants a kiss on his wife's cherry colored lips.

"Isn't that why you married me?"

Gianna giggles playfully as Shepard pushes her down on the bed. They kiss, exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. Just before Shepard can take it any further, a voice interrupts them.

"Mommy?"

Both turn to see their five year old daughter in doorway, cradling a stuffed pink unicorn in her hands. Her skin his sweaty and her hair is a mess.

"What's wrong Ellie?" Gianna asks after making herself decent.

"I don't feel so good," the child complains.

A wave of parental sympathy washes over both of them.

"Oh, come here, honey," Gianna commands lightly, her arms spread towards her daughter.

Elizabeth Shepard happily climbs into bed with her parents. They hold each other tight, savoring the moment. Shepard leans in close to Gianna.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow. See what Dr. Archer can do."

**Earth  
>April 16<strong>**th**** 2022  
>University of Berkeley<strong>

Shepard's red ford mustang pulls into a parking space out front of the Archer Center for Genetic Research stationed at Berkley.

Shepard climbs out and places his sunglasses in the overhead visor. He jogs up the short marble steps sitting out of the beige walled structure, holding the door open for a couple students who greet him as Professor Shep.

Shepard walks through the pristine lobby and classrooms and labs. He comes to an office door and stops. Written in black across the window are the words:

DR. GAVIN ARCHER- LEAD GENETICIST

He knocks twice.

"Come in," a woman's voice commands.

Shepard opens the door and is greeted by a dark haired secretary no older than twenty two. She is beyond beautiful but the most captivating feature is her light green eyes that contrast her hair beautifully.

"Hi," Shepard greeted throwing his best smile, "my name is John Shepard and I have an appointment to see Dr. Archer."

"One moment please," the secretary told him politely and she picked up the phone. After a few seconds the other line picked up, "Dr. Archer? Yes, I have a Mr. Shepard here to see you… very well," she spoke putting the phone back onto the receiver.

"You may go in now," she told him motioning towards the door located on the other side of the room.

Shepard nodded and did as instructed. Upon his entry, a middle aged man with a light toned goatee and thinning hair stood to greet him.

"Mr. Shepard, pleased to see you," Archer greeted holding out his hand.

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice Doctor," Shepard responded shaking the accomplished man's hand.

Archer motions for Shepard to sit in one of the seat present before his clustered desk.

"We don't get many visitors from the history department," he stops as he recalls something, "Have we met before?"

Shepard allowed himself to chuckle. Out of the military for only five years and his fame had already died.

"At last year's Christmas party, Jeff introduced us," Shepard replied.

"Oh… yes, of course. Forgive me but I am a rather busy man of late and things tend to slip my mind."

Archer's comment is subtle but Shepard catches wind of it instantly. The man before him is energetic and proud of himself, high off his own stench.

"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. The work you're doing with leukemia, from what I've read in the paper and on-line, it seems that the same principles can be applied to other forms of cancer."

Archer nods, "Absolutely, we chose blood because, well if you tackle blood you can do it with anything in the body," he explained.

"What about the Lymph System?"

"Down the line, yes."

"How far down the line?" Shepard asked getting his hopes up.

"What seems to be the problem?" Archer asked folding his hands and resting them upon the desk.

"My sister, Jane… and my daughter, Elizabeth, were diagnosed with lymphatic cancer."

"I see… How old are they?"

"Jane is my age, she's my twin. Ellie, she's five… If you could just take a look at her," Shepard pleaded.

"I'd be happy to recommend someone," Archer diplomatically added.

"Please…"

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. The secretary from earlier poked her head in, "Doctor? The crew from Westerlund News is here."

"Good, tell them to set up in the lab. Oh, and tell David to get ready."

The secretary departs. Shepard hangs his head in neglect and defeat.

"Going to be on TV tonight…"

Shepard nods halfheartedly. Archer grabs a slip of paper and a pen and scribbles something down. He hands it to Shepard.

"This is the name of a colleague of mine. He's the best pediatric oncologist I know. I'm sure-"

"We already have a doctor," Shepard interrupts.

"Of course," Archer stands and straightens his shirt, "if you'll excuse me."

Shepard shakes the man's hand and exits the office, the piece of paper crunching in his grip.

Shepard stands alone in the hallway, anger and frustration building up. He feels insignificant, as if his problems palled in comparison to the great Doctor Archer. Through the looking glass of an adjacent room Shepard catches sight of another patient. Almost as if he senses Shepard's gaze, the man turns. He throws Shepard a nod and a smile and turns back to his previous activity.

Shepard walks outside and boards his expensive looking car and heads home in defeat.

**Earth  
>April 16<strong>**th****, 2022  
>Shepard Residence<strong>

Darkness has swept over San Francisco, the moon hanging in orbit like a jewel. Shepard and his wife sit in their room, their daughter fast asleep in Shepard's arms.

Sitting in front of them is a live feed from Berkeley displayed on the television screen.

The lead anchor, a woman with dark hair falling just past her ears, turns to address the camera.

"I'm Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani of Westerlund News here at Berkeley. The world of medicine has seen its share of miracle cures, from the polio vaccine to heart transplants. However all past achievements may pale in comparison to the work of Doctor Gavin Archer."

The studio crowd applauds. Archer lifts his hand in appreciation, a smug and confident grin plastered on his face.

"Thank you for having me Ms. Al-Jilani. It' an honor."

"So, Doctor, I'm sure my audience would agree if you would care to explain you're work."

"Of course," Archer begins, straightening himself in hi seat, "The process is simple. A blood cell is genetically engineered to incorporate the properties of the virus. When this cure is introduced to the diseased system, the new cells seek out the cancerous cells, destroy them, and then replace them with healthy ones," the scientists explained.

"There is some concern doctor, because of the viral element," Khalisah interjected.

Archer laughed, "We need a powerful virus yes, but the virus itself is made impotent. We simply utilize the characteristics and benefits, the rapid duplication, molecular strength, etcetera. It isn't really a virus. It's not contagious, nor is it destructive."

"And how many have you treated?"

"We have performed ten thousand and nine clinical trials."

"And how many are disease free?"

"Ten thousand and nine," Archer proclaimed proudly to which the audience applauded once again.

Khalisah nods, "Thank you doctor," she says as she turns to the camera once again, "and would you please join me in giving a warm welcome to Patient Zero, David Archer, who is none other than the brother of my esteemed guest."

The crowd once again enters into an appropriate applause as David Archer walks on screen. Although David is in perfect health and vitality, he looks pale. But his bulging muscles and charisma overshadow that point.

"Thank you for being here David," Khalisah greeted.

"Hello," David greeted in response.

"Mr. Archer, less than one year ago, you were afflicted with Stage Five Autism and terminal cancer, Leukemia to be precise."

David looks a bit sullen at that announcement, feeling a bit violated for having his secrets displayed for the entire world to hear.

"That's correct."

"And today?"

"I'm cured, thanks to my brother. Every part of my body is 100 percent healthy. Even better than before," David says with a grin meant to shake cheerleaders to their very core.

"Indeed," Khalisah says absent interest before turning to her main guest, "Now doctor, there are rumors that your 'cure' not only eliminates disease but also revitalizes the system as well."

Archer, in full control of the direction of the conversation, nods, "that is one of the many positive effects, yes."

"And the negative side effects?"

"None really that-" adds David before being cut off.

"Photosensitivity," interrupted Archer, all business.

"Oh, yeah," David says softly as if explaining to a teacher that he forgot to do his homework, "my skin is really sensitive to light."

"Which has to do with blood supply," adds Archer.

"Which brings up the harshest criticism of your work," explained Khalisah, "The tremendous amount of blood donated that is needed to pursue these experiments…"

"He's handsome," Gianna commented, causing Shepard to turn away from the television.

"Who, Archer?"

"No silly, the younger one," Gianna clarified.

"I saw him earlier today, at the university," Shepard informed, "there was something off about him." Shepard thinks for a moment, "It was his eyes. I know where I've seen the look before. It's was kind of scary," he admitted unashamed.

Gianna nods in understanding. Both she, and her husband, have been through the fires of battle. Gianna recalled her first assignment after graduating from The Farm. It was in the Iraqi Demilitarized Zone. United Nation peacekeeping forces were under fire from smugglers and other similar criminals. She remembered vividly the look on a few of the soldiers faces, as if they enjoyed killing. It was a memory that had stuck with her. She had no doubt that Shepard had been in that position himself.

She tried to lighten the mood, "Don't you know anything John? Scary is sexy."

Shepard grinned, "Who needs scary when you got my natural charisma?"

He leans over and kisses her passionately.

Gianna chuckles, "you know, you're not as charming as you think you are."

"Yes I am," Shepard said softly and kissed her again, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder once they parted, watching the interview with mild interest.

**Earth  
>April 30<strong>**th**** 2022  
>San Francisco, CA<br>Two Weeks Later**

"…_I'm telling you you're crazy. There is no way that New York is going to repeat this year. After losing Melo in the trade and Lebron getting hurt, I can't see the Knicks getting past the first round_."

"_Common Mack, you're telling me that with all the bench power they have, you think they'll get booted in the first round_?"

"_That's exactly what I'm saying_."

"_I don't know man, I can't follow you on this one. So who __**is**__ going to the finals for the east_?"

"_Bulls, hands down. The power and tenacity they're throwing around seems to be unstoppable. These guys haven't played this well since the Jordan days and Derrick Rose is their very own General Hannibal, leading the charge_."

"_Alright, alright… But who has you're attention in the West_?"

"_Straight up? I'm stuck between Phoenix and the Clippers. Blake Griffin is showing the league what he can do and I have no doubt that he'll win MVP. But the guy has no support around him and I think that's what will eventually give the Suns an edge_."

"_Alright then folks, you heard it here: Bulls with a possible Phoenix or LA in the finals this year. In other news a wide spread string of brutal murders have the people of San Francisco in fear. No word yet on who this assailant is but it seems we have a serial killer on out hands_…"

Shepard sat in his car half listening to the radio, stuck behind a red light. His eyes felt heavy today. He thought becoming a History professor would pale in comparison to being on the front lines but it turns out he joined up with a whole different kind of warfare, the war against boredom.

It seemed that each passing year, the amount of interest students held for history was declining bit by bit. Of course you had the one kid who knew the history books like the back of their hand but the majority was just using it for what seemed to be easy credits.

Shepard looked up at the red light and scowled. The damn thing must have been stuck or something, he'd been sitting there for at least five minutes.

Although Shepard was tired from class, he did have a little extra stamina left over which he utilized by visiting an old friend. A thought suddenly strikes him and he lifts his shirt to his nose.

"Damn it," he curses when he realizes that he still has the stink on his clothes. A vibration coming from his pant's pocket signified an incoming call. Shepard pulled the phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen

_Speak of the devil…_

"Hello?"

"Hi, I'm not sure if you remember me but we just had sex in my bedroom half an hour ago and I wanted to make sure I left an impression," a feminine voice playfully spoke.

"You definitely left an impression. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to explain the scratch mark on my back," Shepard replied.

The woman on the other end laughed, "Well I warned you I was a hellcat both on and off the battlefield."

"Ash…" Shepard said weakly, the guilt clear as day on his face. Although the person on the other end cannot see his face, she knows him well enough to recognize his tone.

"Skipper, don't forget, you called me."

"Yeah I know."

"If you want to end it, just say the word. I might cry," She teased, "But I understand you got obligations." The light before him finally turns green and Shepard gently pushes the gas pedal down.

"No," Shepard said adamantly, "I don't want to end it. I still…" he trails off.

"Say it," the woman demands.

"Common, do we have to do this?"

"Yes or… or I'll change my number," she threatened.

"I know where you live."

"Then I'll move."

"Yeah right. Besides me, your ass belongs to the military and they say if you can move. Don't bullshit a bullshitter Ashley; you should know this about me by now."

"Oh Captain, my Captain," Ashley played along, "please don't make me have to carry this threat out. It would involve way too much work just to prove a point."

"Fine…"

Shepard pauses.

"_Iloveyou_," he quickly utters and hangs up just as fast. Not seconds later he receives a text message.

_I win._

Shepard just laughs and tucks his phone away as he pulls onto his street. He pulls into his driveway and just before he exits he produces a box of mints and pops one in his mouth. Then he grabs some generic body spray and douses himself with the aerosol can. Satisfied he exits.

After waving to a neighbor, Shepard trots up to the front door and places his home key into the lock and enters.

He is greeted by a scent of cooking food. He walks in the kitchen to find Gianna standing over the stove. In one hand is a spoon which she uses to stir the pot bubbling on the stove and the other is keeping her place in a thick old leather cookbook, a family heirloom.

Shepard walks up and embraces her from behind planting a kiss on her neck.

"Hi," she greeted, "how was work?"

"The usual pain in the ass. Whatchu making?"

"Pasta," she deadpanned. A strange smell drifted slowly up her nostrils, making her cringe.

"Jesus John, you smell like an old man."

"I was sweaty, "he half lied, "nearly had to change my shirt. Better I smell like an old man that a sweaty brute."

"I like the sweaty brute."

They kiss once more before Shepard disposes his belongings on his designated spot in the corner of the counter. It is a boondoggle of random objects. A pen, a pencil, a couple batteries, a few screws of different lengths and tops, a cell phone charger, an unpaid bill, a broken toy of Ellie's that he once promised to fix until she forgot about it…

"Where's Ellie?" Shepard asked wondering why he wasn't being tackled to the ground in a child-like bear hug.

"In her room," Gianna replied. Shepard understood.

"How is she?"

"Well," Gianna put her cookware down and turned to fully address him, "we got her the treatment but they said it would take a little while for it to kick in. You can't cure cancer overnight."

Shepard nods. He's about to continue the conversation but the sound of a truck pulling in his driveway interrupts him. He looks through a window to see a uniform man with a red and black beret on his head and a flowing navy blur coat disembark and approach the front door. Moments later the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," Shepard says already halfway to the door.

As he opens the door, a wide and happy grin appears on his face.

"Anderson!" he greets his former dark skinned commanding officer.

"Shepard," Anderson replies shaking his protégé's hand, "how's retirement treating you?"

"Can't complain, what with the hot food and soft beds."

Anderson lightly taps Shepard's stomach, "you do seem to be getting a bit soft around the edges." Shepard instantly feels his abdomen to see if that was the case. It wasn't.

"Come on in man, but take you're shoes off."

Anderson enters and does as instructed. He spots Gianna in the kitchen.

"Gianna, good to see you."

"You too David," she replies waving to him with her back turned.

Shepard leads Anderson to the living room and pours himself and his mentor a small glass of scotch. Anderson refuses, "I got to drive."

Shepard persists, "Its just one glass, for old time's sake."

Anderson mumbles something taking the offering, "yeah, old times, like when I had to pull you and Toombs from that bar fight in Madrid."

"Hey, it wasn't my fault Toombs can't speak a lick of Spanish," Shepard defended recalling the memory and the black eye he received from a very aggressive and very large Spaniard who his squad-mate offended by propositioning the guy's wife.

"Those were the good old days, but I'm not here to reminisce."

"Straight to business then?"

Anderson nods and takes a position by the window, watching a woman jog by with her dog trotting in tow.

"Something's happened. You're the only person I know can handle this Shepard."

Shepard shakes his head, "I don't want to hear it Dave, I'm retired. I have a family know, my obligations lie elsewhere."

"I figured you'd say that so let me say my peace and then I'll leave, with or without your agreement."

Shepard pondered this, "very well, shoot."

Anderson braced himself and produced a folded envelope from somewhere inside his long black coat.

"Two weeks ago Dr. Gavin Archer put his Miracle drug on the open market."

"Yeah I heard, the day after the Westerlund News interview."

Anderson nods as Shepard opens the envelope and reads its contents.

"Anyway, the drug has been selling like hot cakes in every country with access to modern medicine. Those that don't are getting it through the black market. In other words, it gone global."

Shepard shrugged, "good for Archer then, I'm sure he's a very rich man by now."

"Indeed but I'm afraid that's where the problem is. The Center for Disease Control has been doing non-stop testing on this thing since it was created. What they found was… alarming."

"Come clean Anderson. What's got you so worked up?"

"It's mutated John. Its mutated into something bad. What the science behind it is, I can't say, I'm a soldier not a geneticist. But in layman's terms the virus the drug relies on to work has mutated into something more. Something different."

Shepard stood with his arms folded. Anderson's voice became background noise. Shepard couldn't stop thinking of his daughter who just got treated with the same drug Anderson was describing.

"Infected subjects are beginning to show signs of aggression," Anderson explained, "we locked a few up for safety and observation. Last night they broke out. Same with the ones under observation at the Archer Center. We don't know where they went but this morning we found seventeen people dead, murdered, and five were cops."

"What are you saying?"

Anderson paused, "I don't know Shepard but it isn't good. Something big is heading our way and I want you by my side went the shit hits the fan."

"Anderson I told you-"

"I know Shepard, you got a family. But think about it," Anderson began, "wouldn't you do anything to make sure they were safe?"

"Without a doubt, "Shepard answered honestly and with conviction.

"Good, that's what I wanted to hear. I need your help Shepard and you know I'm not one to come crawling up to someone. I'll beg if I have to but please don't make me do it."

Shepard thought about it.

"How bad are we talking?"

"Bad."

Shepard thought of Ellie and Gianna and his duty as the man of the house. It was his job, his place in nature, to provide for his family and everything that the word implies.

"Alright but I got one condition."

"Name it," replied Anderson.

"I want my old team back."

_**Author's Note:  
>So the problem with the separation of the POVs should be fixed with this upload. I apologize for any inconvenience, I really did have a page break there, you gotta believe me!<strong>_

_**So this was the first of the Flash backs. The next one won't happen for a while so I hope you enjoyed this at least.**_

_**Shepard's affair is something that will be addressed properly later in the story, don't worry.**_

_**I hope you enjoyed this installment and stay tuned for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Ten!**_


	10. Chapter 10

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

A huge shout out to those who have reviewed and offered advice. I'm sure if you go back to chapter one you'll see that you're words have not fallen on deaf ears… or blind eyes, whatever.

However, I will say that there I a point to Shepard's hair-do with reassurance that it'll be gone soon.

Many of the chapters have undergone small changes in detail. They don't necessarily affect the story as a whole but if you want go re-read the story. I believe its better.

Mass Effect and all related materials belong to Bioware and EA.

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Asari Republic Frigate  
>Thessia's Wrath<br>Geosynchronous Orbit  
>over Sol Prime<strong>

Liara felt the shuttle shutter as it took off and passed through the hanger bay and into the empty void. The bulky Albatross shuttle was a much larger and heavier version of the Kodiak drop ship that she boarded back on Therum. It allowed the thirty four people inside at least some room but lacked any form of comfort.

Her comfort level was lowered even further due to the fact she was seated between both Krogan mercenaries. The one with the green head fringe, Wreav, was cleaning off his heavy Claymore Shotgun with near religious detail. Liara found herself staring. The thing looked as if it was designed to maim and kill with murderous glee, similar to look the krogan was giving her.

"You're eyes stuck?" he asked, his voice booming.

"No sorry," Liara uttered.

Liara turned her head away from the krogan who returned to cleaning his weapon.

"Wreav, did a Varren crawl up your ass?" mocked Wrex.

"Oh shove it."

"Come on, we're being paid a lot to play babysitter, at least try and act like this is an easy job."

Wreav snorted, "You know, if you didn't kill father we wouldn't be having this problem. I could be sitting nice and happy on Tuchanka with a female riding my quad. Instead I'm stuck traveling the galaxy living day to day."

Wrex merely grunted in response.

Liara tried her best to ignore the conversation but her close proximity prevented that. Eventually her curiosity got the better of her.

"You killed your father?" she asked as innocently as possible.

Wrex turned to Liara, glaring at her as if she was a bug that needed to be squashed by his massive boot. Luckily, Wreav intervened.

"Sure did," the krogan answered for his brother, "you see, Wrex here is an idealist. He tried uniting the clans under a single banner, trying to organize our colonization efforts. Our father, Jarrod, wasn't having it. He said 'if the aliens can't stop us from moving in, then they aren't worthy of the planet'. He and Wrex fought at every turn."

"That's enough," Wrex threatened.

But Wreav continued, "Eventually Jarrod set up a crush and invited Wrex to join him."

"A crush?" asked Liara.

"It's when two clans meet. They discussed their issues over the bodies of our ancestors. It is our most sacred place, violence is forbidden," explained Wreav.

"What happened?"

"Jarrod and Wrex talked but it was going nowhere. Jarrod gave the signal and his followers leapt from the graves like krogan undead. Those that had come with Wrex died quickly."

"But not before I sunk my dagger deep into his chest!" Wrex loudly proclaimed.

To Liara's surprise, Wreav laughed, "Ha, and what a death it was! The look on his face… I'll never forget it."

"So how did you end up here?"

Wreav shrugged, "Jarrod was a warlord of several hundred warriors. They wanted to avenge his death so I grabbed this sad excuse for a krogan and we left. We haven't been back since."

Wrex was visibly fuming by this point, "you got a lot of nerve," he said as his body began glowing with a blue aura. Wreav chuckled and stood to confront him.

"Come on then pup, you think you have the plates to take me on?"

The two looked as if they were ready to kill each other then and there. Luckily it was put down before they could tear a hole in the bulkhead.

"Cut it out!" barked Garrus as he moved in between them.

"Can it split-chin, I want this varren's head!"

"Sit down, the both of you, or it'll come out of you pay!"

Thankfully, the two krogan loved money more than battle and sat back in their respective seats. Garrus, satisfied that the situation was dealt with returned to his seat and opened his omni-tool, pulling up a report of the initial scans and prepared for the mission.

XxxxxX

Aboard the Thessia's Wrath, the crew watched as the Albatross slowly made its way planet side.

Captain Andralla herself was in high spirits. So far the mission was going beautifully; they had even arrived ahead of schedule.

She patrolled around the CIC, making sure that everything was performing to specifications. With no problems to speak of, she began to head towards the elevator.

"I'm going to my quarters, XO has the deck."

"Aye captain."

However, before she could even get near to what was a guaranteed couple of hours of sleep, her navigation officer called out.

"Ma'am, I'm reading a FTL rupture."

Andralla turned, confused, and headed towards the console.

"We are supposed to be the only ship out here, give me a reading," she ordered.

"Analyzing… I'm not reading a Council IFF… two more ruptures have just appeared!"

Andralla had survived many excursions during the Rachni War, a few of them being very close calls. As a result she developed a near sixth sense in detecting danger. Right now that sense was screaming at her.

"All hands action stations, give me full power to the shields and arm the MAC!"

Her orders carried throughout the ship as the crew scurried to their stations.

"Give me a visual," Andralla ordered as she approached her holographic display.

Moments later the image of three ships appeared before her. She gazed upon them with alert eyes. Two of them appeared to be cruisers and the third looked to be a frigate. She seemed to be outmatched numerically and in weapon superiority. But when it came to strategy and discipline, Andralla knew that she held the advantage.

"Report!"

"Ma'am, ships are giving off EM signatures matching the Eclipse mercenary organization."

"Captain," cried the XO, "they're arming weapons and powering shields!"

"Helm, bring us about 45 degrees starboard. I want us pointed right at them. Is the MAC armed?"

"Fifteen seconds, Ma'am, we weren't expecting combat so it needs to charge."

Andralla cursed herself for not being more prepared. She should have prepared for everything and blamed only herself.

"Armed torpedo bays nine through thirty," she ordered her weapons team.

"Captain they're launching fighters!"

"Launch our own interceptors and prep the bombers," Andralla commanded. Albeit she only had four interceptor and two bombers but it was better than nothing.

"They aren't heading for us," the navigation officer clarified in a low voice.

"If they aren't going for us…"

The thought struck Andralla like a tone of bricks.

"Arm everything we got, they're going after the transport! Send the Albatross a message let them know we have incoming!"

Andralla felt her grip on the railing of the holographic projector tighten. She could only pray that the pilot was good enough to avoid getting hit until her own ships could reach it.

XxxxxX

Nihlus was feeling apprehensive in the cockpit of the Albatross. He was anxious to get the mission underway and even more anxious to prove to Saren that he was SpecTre material.

Nihlus was selected from three dozen other turian military recruits. Chances were that he wouldn't have been picked but he made a name for himself a few years prior when his unit, on leave on an independent asari world, was attacked by pirates and raiders attempting to lay siege to the planet. He fought for three days and four nights until backup arrived and by that time most of his team was dead and he found himself alone. The metal block in his assault rifle was used up and he had lost in shotgun. Using only a pistol and whatever weapons his enemies dropped, Nihlus had held the line.

"Calm down," a voice ordered.

Nihlus looked up at Saren who was seated across from him with an almost bored expression on his face.

"Sir?"

"You're nervous," the elder turian stated, "when you're nervous you get jumpy. When you get jumpy you make mistakes. Mistakes make you dead."

"Sir," Nihlus responded steeling his nerves.

"Besides," Saren continued, "chances are that we won't encounter anything of note and we'll be gone before long. We're only here to make sure nothing cache goes down during the initial drop."

Nihlus nodded but couldn't help but feel nervous. It wasn't like he never saw combat. He wouldn't be able to call himself a turian if did. It was the unknown that made him restless. He knew next to nothing about this place besides what little was explained in the briefing.

"Aren't you the least curious about this planet?"

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Not for the first time, Nihlus wished his SpecTre mentor was more sociable. The two sat in silence for the next few moments, Nihlus deep in thought and Saren sitting as still as a statue with his eyes closed.

Thankfully, the sound of the Albatross' radio broke the silence.

"_Albatross 8-3, this is Thessia's Wrath, respond_."

The two pilots looked at each other in mild surprise.

"Take over, would you?" said the pilot to her partner before answering the comm..

"This is Eight-three, go ahead."

"_We are detecting multiple hostile signatures bearing down on your position, advise you proceed with evasive maneuvers."_

The pilot cursed and responded in the affirmative before taking back the controls. Her co-pilot frantically turning whatever defensive systems the transport had on.

"Can one of you tell those guys back there to buckle up; this is going to get bumpy."

Saren grunted, clear in his thoughts on the idea. Nihlus shook his head, "I guess I'll go."

Saren smirked, "You're too kind."

Nihlus rose from his seat and proceeded through the cockpit doors. The door slide open and he leaned out.

"Buckle up people, we have incoming," he ordered.

The group of scientists and conscripts threw each other worried glances before doing as instructed. As the last one fastened themselves in, Nihlus went about to each one, making sure they were secure.

XxxxxX

The Thessia's Wrath shook violently from a barrage of torpedoes, the shields flaring over the hull at each impact point.

Andralla braced herself on the railing to prevent herself from falling over. She still wondered how the hell the Eclipse managed to find out about a top secret mission like this but that thought was quickly driven away. However the found out would not save her or the transport and that was all that was important right now.

"Status report!"

"Shield strength down fifteen percent! Weapon batteries thirteen through twenty are offline. Guardian Laser defenses have overheated and we're detecting hull breaches in sectors four and eleven!" responded her executive officer.

"Divert all non-essential systems to the shields and seal all breached sections," Andralla barked.

"But we still have people down there!" a technician exclaimed in horror.

"If we don't seal those compartments we'll all die, now do it!"

"Aye… captain," the ensign replied dutifully.

It was a hard choice but Andralla knew that it needed to be done.

The Thessia's Wrath mass accelerated cannon boomed loudly, sending a 32 kilo slug down range. Since the Thessia's Wrath was only a frigate she was only armed with a single MAC, unlike her opposing cruisers which carried two. The one advantage the Wrath did have was her maneuverability. She was much faster than the cruisers making it difficult for them to get a bead on her. The opposing frigate however was still able to keep up, chasing down the Wrath, attempting to knock her engines out so the cruisers could deliver the killing blow. It was only thanks to the crew of the asari frigate and the timely instructions of Andralla that prevented that from happening

"Are the guardians operational?"

"Give me thirty seconds and you'll have full power," replied the weapons officer.

Andralla watched the holographic display as it showed the enemy frigate pull up along side the Wrath. Andralla cursed in her native tongue. In the naval world, she just entered in what was known as a knife fight.

Knife fights were close quarters combat between two opposing ships similar to how old Galleons would fight on earth back in the pre-industrial days. Without guardian laser defenses, the Wrath would be extremely vulnerable in this position.

"Fire everything we have on that ship!" Andralla commanded regarding the frigate.

In the depth of space above Earth, the two ships met, exchanging a vast array of torpedoes and laser fire, whittling each other's shields down and penetrating the outer hull.

Again Andralla braced herself as an explosion rocked her ship. She knew she couldn't keep this up. Once her shields were gone, there would be little standing in the way of her hull and the reinforced plating would only last so long.

"Status!"

"Shields down to thirty percent! Sections all over the ship report fires and many compartments are venting!"

"Send an alert to the fire crews and seal all exposed compartments," Andralla ordered. Thankfully no one argued with her this time.

"Captain, Guardian Defenses are on-line!"

The weapons tech didn't even need to be ordered to open fire, reading her captain's mind as if it were a holo-display.

The Thessia's Wrath point defense lasers opened up on her opponent. In combination with the torpedo fire, the enemy ship was forced to break off, giving Andralla some breathing room.

"Lock on that ship and fire the MAC!"

She received confirmation and three seconds later the Wrath sent another slug towards her opposite number. The slug impacted the frigate, depleting whatever shields the Eclipse ship had left.

"Enemy is firing up their FTL drive, their trying to make a run for it!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it, open fire with bays one through five."

The Wrath sent her payload down range, connecting with the frigate. Explosion rocked all over the enemy's hull. Seconds later more secondary explosions erupted until the final one that caused it to explode into a giant fire ball.

"That's a kill!"

A chorus of applause and cheers echoed in the CIC.

"Alright, but we still have two more hostiles out there. What's the status on the transport?"

The executive officer rushed to a nearby console.

"Still operational but they have two bogey's on their six."

"How many of the interceptors are still operational?"

"Two ma'am and they got their hands full."

Andralla cursed. The shuttle's only salvation was the Wrath but with the two cruisers bearing down on her she couldn't afford to change battlefields.

"Launch the bombers and have them target the second cruiser, we'll handle the other. Order the two remaining interceptors to divert and give them a clear path."

Andralla turned to her weapons officer.

"Target the other cruiser with our MAC and show them what happens when you mess with a Republic vessel."

"Aye, ma'am!"

XxxxxX

Liara felt herself slam into Wrex's side as the shuttle made another sharp turn. Minutes ago, the Thessia's Wrath informed them of incoming hostiles and sure enough a couple enemy fighters appeared and began firing at the Albatross. The Wrath had launched interceptors of her own but they were too few to make much of an impact and soon were attacked by the hostile fighters.

A nearby explosion rocked the ship again. A couple of the scientists who were unused to combat scenarios screamed in terror. If Liara could actually grasp the situation instead of shutting her eyes tightly and griping her seat bonds as if her life depended on it, she would have been as well.

"Doesn't this thing have any weapons?" bellowed Wrex.

"This is a transport, not a gunship!" replied Garrus.

Wreav scoffed, "soft aliens build soft ships… Wrex if we die-"

"I hate you too Wreav," Wrex interrupted causing Wreav to laugh.

"Ha! Maybe there's hope for you yet!"

In the cockpit, the two pilots were frantically trying to outmaneuver the smaller and faster craft. A barrage of nose mounted gunfire danced along the outer edges of the hull which showed that they were living on borrowed time.

"We can't out run them forever, we need to do something!" exclaimed the pilot.

"Head into the debris field," instructed Saren who was relatively calm considering their situation.

The two pilots exchanged glances but did as Saren said, and turned the ship into the field of orbiting debris.

The two Eclipse fighters followed them in, guns blazing, weaving in and out of the earth made satellites and unmanned space stations.

"Do we have any weapons?" asked Saren.

"We have a 20mm nose mounted turret but that's it!" responded the co-pilot.

"Head to that construct there," Saren said pointing at a piece of debris that was circular in the middle with two rectangular wings.

The Albatross lazily made its way, enemy fire depleting their already low powered shields.

The Albatross flew within meters of the construct before Saren ordered the ship to dive. The transport did just that as the fighter behind it moved itself in a killing position. The fighter pilot was unable to react in time and slammed right into it. Its remnants fell harmlessly down to the planet bellow. Its comrade however made the turn.

"Get behind that one!" ordered Saren.

The Albatross turned and found itself behind the final fighter who was trying desperately to shake the bulky transport. Luckily, with Saren's guidance, the Albatross was able to maintain her course. The pilot smirked once a kill shot was properly lined up.

"For Thessia!"

The Albatross nose gun sounded off in the void, ripping holes into the smaller craft. A trail of smoke began emanating from the fighter before its pilot lost control and crashed into a floating piece of debris like its comrade before him.

"Whew!" sighed the pilot wiping away a trail of sweat, "that was close."

She turned to face Saren, "you SpecTre types don't play around."

"I don't play, I kill," responded Saren causing the pilot to gulp and turn back to the viewport.

"I'll put us on a docking path with the Wrath. Then we can get out of here."

"No, head to the surface," ordered Saren.

"What?"

"You heard me. The mission proceeds as planned."

"The plan went out the window once those ships appeared. This mission is scrubbed. We're returning to the Wrath."

"Head. To. The. Planet," Saren said slowly and coldly.

"No, my objective is keep my passengers safe, not to help you keep you're untarnished record," the pilot stated defiantly.

Saren shook his head, "you are impeding with a Council mandated mission and therefore you are a liability and I'll be forced to kill you and commandeer this ship."

The pilot stared at Saren for a moment trying to see if he was bluffing. Saren stared back with a blank, cold expression etched on his face. The SpecTre saw a wave of fear flash across the pilot's face when she realized that he was dead serious on his threat.

"The planet… now," Saren ordered cementing his authority.

The pilot nodded and made a turn towards Sol Prime.

The transport began to vibrate roughly as it began to break through the planet's upper atmosphere.

"We'll be making planet fall in three-" the pilot began but was interrupted by a loud incessant alarm.

The co-pilot began checking systems for the cause. Her eyes widened when she found it.

"We got weapons locked on us!"

"We're painted," observed the pilot, "I can't maneuver in these conditions!"

The Albatross cleared the upper atmosphere's cloud cover and Nihlus could finally see Sol Prime's surface for himself. The ruins below him were vast, spreading in all directions as far as the eye could see. He noticed a red colored bridge stretching over a wide river that split the ruin in two.

The torpedoes originator, a single fighter, launched a single torpedo towards the descending transport before breaking off.

"We got a live torpedo!"

"Shields?" the pilot asked.

The co-pilot read her readings and looked at her comrade forlornly, "not enough…"

The pilot jumped on the Albatross' PA.

"Everyone, brace for impact!"

Seconds later the torpedo collided with Albatross' tail sending the transport into an uncontrolled downward spiral. All the occupants could do was hold on and pray they survived the landing.

XxxxxX

"Status?" Andralla asked her crew as she wiped away a trail of blue blood that was disrupting her vision in her left eye.

"Shields are depleted. Second cruiser is venting atmosphere and we're reading multiple secondary explosions coming from her hull. The first cruiser is as bad off as we are."

Andralla nodded, "and what of our bombers?"

The executive officer shook her head.

"There's one more thing… the drive core has destabilized."

Andralla was silent for a second, "How long?"

"A minute, maybe less..." was her response

It was all Andralla needed. She looked around her ruined CIC. Cables and panels hung exposed, the bodies of the dead and injured sprawled on the floor, and the lights were coming in and out. She knew she wasn't getting out of this alive. In space, there was no room for bullshit, no room for empty hopes. She and her crew would fall but Andralla was determined to make sure the afterlife was filled to capacity when she got there.

She looked to her XO and her helmsman, the only other two that were still able to perform their duties, and finally down to the wounded. Each was looking at her waiting for the order they knew Andralla had to make.

During the Rachni War, Andralla had fought and survived twenty six different excursions, each one she somehow was able to pull off a win and walk away with her head held high. But finally, whether it was fate or chance, death had came for her and this was one visitor who didn't take no for an answer.

"Helm… execute order ninety two… put us on a collision course."

Her helmsman didn't respond. She simply nodded as turned to fulfill her last duty. Andralla noticed with mild satisfaction as the second cruiser exploded. All that was left was the final one and Andralla was making sure that it would go down with her.

"_Collision in… Five" _reported the ship's virtual intelligence.

Andralla felt her executive officer approach beside her, grasping Andralla's hand in her own.

"_Four…"_

"It has been an honor, Captain."

"_Three…"_

"The honor has been mine."

"_Two…"_

The remaining asari crew members watched as the enemy cruiser grew larger and larger.

"_One…"_

The two leviathans collided over Earth in a spectacular display of fire and heat, their hulls fusing together for the briefest of seconds before both ships' drive cores erupted, showering the planet below in an artificial meteor shower.

The fires quickly died in the oxygen deprived void. A few charred remnants of the four ships were the only proof that they ever existed.

_**Author's note:  
>Okay, so many of you were contemplating on how Liara was going to get stranded on the planet and this was how it all went down. Trust me when I say that this was the original idea from the beginning. Any problems let me know.<strong>_

_**Next chapter will be the aftermath of the battle.**_

_**For any Mass Effect and/or Fallout fans, go Check out Commandocucumber's adaptations (Watchdog and Modus Operandi) for very high quality writing and invigorating storylines. The bastard already has me hooked and begging for more and I'll bet it'll do the same to you. So go check his page out, you won't regret it.**_

_**I hope you have enjoyed this chapter, although I will be making many changes over the next couple of days. Tune in Wednesday for Chapter Eleven. Why so soon? Because I can. And I already kinda started writing it…**_

_**Tune in for Mass Effect Chapter Eleven!**_


	11. Chapter 11

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

The nature of those who attacked the expedition will be revealed in due time. I know we know that the Eclipse was behind it, but how did they find out?

All of Mass Effect belongs to Bioware and EA

**WARNING!  
><strong>This chapter includes violence, gore, and the occasional verbal expletive, viewer discretion is advised.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco CA  
>March 7<strong>**th**** 2032  
>Albatross Crash Site<strong>

"_Doct…oni_…."

Liara struggled to make sense of her surroundings. The noise calling out was muffled and distorted and all she could hear was a faint high pitched screeching sound that sounded like metal being scrapped against metal. Her vision too was failing and was covered in dark black splotches. Anything past that was blurry formless shapes.

"Doctor…please…"

Liara tried to stand, to do anything. But it only caused her more pain than she was already feeling so she decided to just lie there. Her vision was beginning to come back. What was once black splotches, were now grayish white. She could now make out the voices of people around her but like before it was more unintelligible than anything.

"Doctor T'Soni, please answer me!"

Her eyes fluttered as she returned to normalcy. Her vision was now as it was and her hearing seemed to drop back into its previous state.

"Doctor?"

The voice seemed to not leave her be. Her head felt like it was caving in two and she could feel a warm substance flowing freely down the right side of her face. The voice called out once more.

"I'm here…" Liara answered barley above a whisper.

The owner of the voice heard it nonetheless and she soon saw Garrus rushing over to her, his omni-tool's light shining brightly in her direction.

"I found her, she's in here!" Garrus shouted turning back to grasp the attention of the others.

Liara saw Nihlus and Shiala appear seconds later along with the krogan, Wrex.

"She's got a pretty bad cut on her head, she's possibly still in shock," inspected Garrus.

"Liara? Can you here me?" asked Shiala impatiently as she tried to revitalize her friend.

Liara nodded and made to stand, hoping that her dizziness from before had worn off. But alas, the two turians made sure she would no be able to, and held her down, albeit gently.

"Take it easy doctor, you mustn't rush this. You could have internal bleeding and we don't want to exacerbate your wounds," explained Nihlus.

Liara nodded once again, "fine… what happened?"

"We got shot down," explained Shiala who Liara was just noticing had her arm cradled to her breast in a sling, "many are dead, even more wounded… except for that SpecTre and the krogan," she said with jealousy.

"Not my fault you don't have a redundant nervous system," growled Wrex.

Garrus ignored the krogan's snide comment, "can you lift her? We need to get her with the others."

Wrex scoffed but did as instructed. He bent over and picked her up with a surprising amount of gentleness. However Garrus made to remind him once anyway.

"Gently," he instructed.

Wrex turned to Garrus and said, "Is she crying out in pain? No. I know how to handle a wounded person. Gods damn turians, always with a stick up their ass," he continued as he walked out of earshot holding Liara in his arms like a newly wed.

Wrex carried her out of the crashed Albatross and onto a field of dirt and mud and set her down next another five or six wounded. Liara grunted in pain when the krogan finally set her down.

"Thank you," she said with gratitude.

"Don't thank me," Wrex said as he returned to the ship.

Liara finally found a chance to look around as far as her wounds would allow. Her neck felt stiff and her back ached something awful but she tried to push the pain away as best as she could.

The ship, now a smoking ruin of metal, was resting at the edge of a long trench it had created when it smashed into the ground, sliding several yards from its' initial impact point. The entire area seemed devoid of plant life and Liara could see that they had crash in the middle of the ruin itself. Ironically she recalled that this was supposed to be the drop zone anyways.

The surrounding area was adorned with trenches covered in some wired material that had jagged points wrapped around it. Bags of sand covered key points in the ground and some contained mean primitive looking weapons.

On the ground the ruins looked much larger than it did with the satellite scans. The rectangular buildings seemed to reach for the sky in ridiculous heights and were interspaced with square windows. Some windows were still covered with some see through material Liara was assuming was glass. Although they were of different sizes and widths, Liara could tell there was something similar to each one. Each seemed to be damaged or decayed in some way or another.

Her previous assumptions that a battle was once fought here were being proven correct.

A scream of pain grasped her attention. Liara turned and saw that one of the wounded people lined up next to her was writhing in compulsions. A salarian she recognized from the CRC briefing, Mordin Solus, and the quarian, Tali Zora, rushed to his side. Liara saw Tali bring up her omni-tool and waved it over the wounded victim like a magic wand.

"He's going in hypovolemic shock," she heard the quarian report with her almost mechanically distorted voice.

"Give me a blanket from the med-kit," ordered Mordin in a quick rapid manner, "will try to close the wound, please lift his feet."

Tali return seconds later with a blanket and Mordin wrapped it around the wounded salarian. The compulsions grew even more violent as the wounded alien thrashed around. Finally he stopped, his eyes bulging and his breathing stopped.

Mordin and Tali exchanged solemn glance before Mordin leaned over and pulled the blanket over the dead salarian's face.

"Shame, terrible waste of life," she heard Mordin utter under his breath.

Liara heard a scoff from behind her. She turned and saw Wreav lying there with a jagged piece of metal jettisoning from his left leg. A pool of orange blood was forming around it.

"Another bites the dust," he commented before his face scrunched up in agony.

"Are you alright Wreav?" Liara asked concerned.

"I'll be fine, don't worry your pretty head about ol' Wreav now… I just want them to get this damned thing outta me… but no, according to the turian it would cause more harm than good."

"Did Mordin give you anything for the pain?"

"I'm a krogan, I live off pain. I'm not going to take some alien's pills so they make me all groggy," Wreav said looking around at the ruined infrastructure, "something about this place sets me off… like a stench I can't put my finger on."

Liara nodded in agreement, "I can sense it too, as if it came from the planet itself."

She looked back and saw Wreav starring at her as if he was having a conversation with a talking pyjack.

"No," he said shaking his head, "I really do smell something…"

That worried Liara even more. Krogan were more bestial than the other members of the galactic community, or the very least the ones with intelligence. They possessed very heightened senses and can smell substances from up to a mile away. It would be a useful trait to have if the krogan were smart enough to discern from the different smells an area would hold.

"…Getting no contact from the Wrath," she heard Nihlus say from a few meters away. Liara gazed over in the SpecTre's direction and saw him conversing with both Garrus and Saren.

"Are you telling me our communications are being blocked," asked Garrus.

Nihlus shook his head, "no, I'm saying I'm getting absolutely zero contact. If we were being blocked I would be hearing some sort of interference. I'm just getting static."

Garrus lowered his head in thought, "our last transmission did say that three other ships had jumped into the system… maybe they lost?"

Saren looked around at the crash site. The wounded crew members were all lined up in neat rows on the western perimeter. The dead were more lazily placed to the east; a rather ingenious idea from Mordin, separating the dead and the wounded to prevent a morale issue. He gazed back to the ship as the krogan mercenary exited, carrying another dead person. Judging from the fact that the headless body's skin was blue and it wore a naval flight suit, Saren was willing to bet that the pilots were both dead. How he and his charge survived was a mystery but Saren was chalking it up his extensive supply of luck. One doesn't become a SpecTre on skill alone. In some situations all you do is get lucky.

Saren turned back to his turian comrades, a thought striking him, "what is our supply situation?"

Nihlus coughed slightly, "most of the supplies were lost in the crash. However, at the rate we're going now, we do have enough food and medical supplies to last three days. Wrex also managed to find a crate of weapons that was for the security team; a few rifles, a couple shotguns, several pistols, even a sniper however, Garrus had already called dibs. Judging from his record I'd say it's in good hands," he gazed at Saren forlornly, "Not enough if we get attacked."

This peaked Garrus' interest immediately, "attacked? Attacked by what?"

Nihlus paused for a moment, "I'm just being careful. We know next to nothing about the wildlife on this planet and I'd rather be safe than sorry."

Nihlus watched as the on-loan C-Sec officer pondered the idea. After a few seconds his head perked up and he nodded, "very well."

Saren however, was busy peering at the wounded. Out of the initial thirty two members of the ground team, only sixteen were still alive. Even then only four were relatively scar free. The rest were the walking wounded or lying in the makeshift medical line.

"Doctor Solus," Saren called out to the salarian doctor.

The salarian rose from his patient and trotted over.

"Yes? Oh, Agent Arterius, glad to see you made it okay, can't say the same for most crew except the krogan who should be fine. Must be nice to have a redundant nervous system and triciary organs-"

"Doctor," Saren interjected, holding up his hand, "I need you to do something."

"Of course," Mordin replied with a rather content tone to his voice.

"I need you to triage the wounded. Any of those that require medicine to survive I want you to put on the eastern perimeter. Those that will recover by themselves or have rather benign injuries are to stay where they are."

Mordin was quiet for a moment. The weight of what Saren had asked him to do was not missed.

"I see…"

Saren moved towards him, "it's not easy but it must be done. We have to assume that we are stranded for the time being. If we're lucky, the Wrath managed to send off a distress signal and we'll get picked up within a couple days."

Garrus stood still for a moment trying to understand what Saren was talking about. His gaze drifted to the east where the dead where placed and then it finally hit him.

"You're going to let them die?" he asked as if it were a statement.

Saren turned to his fellow turian, "yes."

"You can't do that, those are still people! We can still help them!"

"We only have enough supplies for three days, according to Nihlus. I will not spend it on those who will die regardless."

Garrus' mouth opened and closed several times, balking at the very idea. Eventually he understood, "Can't we make them a bit more comfortable? How many pain killers do we have left?"

Before Mordin could answer, Saren beat him to it, "we won't be giving them any."

"We can't let them suffer!"

Saren remained quiet, motionless. He stood, starring at Garrus who just stared right back. Eventually Saren drew his pistol strapped to the magnetic plating on his leg and pointed it at Garrus.

To Saren's surprise, the C-Sec officer didn't even flinch but Saren could see that the turian's body was tense.

Saren aimed it at Garrus… and handed him the pistol.

"If you don't want them to suffer, than I suggest a quicker method," he said devoid of emotion.

Garrus stared at the pistol for a moment. Would he be willing to kill unarmed and wounded people? Finally he backed down, his fists clenched in anger.

Saren nodded and turned back to Mordin, "get it done."

Mordin walked away, although this time with less enthusiasm. Saren turned back to the other two turians and saw Wrex approaching them.

"All the dead and wounded are out of the shuttle. If the weather turns bad, at least we have shelter for the night."

"Good," Saren complimented, looking upwards to the setting sun, "night will be falling soon so I suggest building a few fires. I want at least three people on sentry duty with three hour shifts," he addressed Garrus and Wrex, "distribute the assault rifles to those with military training. The shotguns go to our resident krogan-"

"No need, I have Wreav's claymore," interrupted Wrex hefting his brother's large shotgun, "trust me when I say it's better than anything the CRC gave us."

"Very well, the shotguns go to those physically able to carry them or those who have trained with them. If I'm not mistaken, the quarian had filed that she is proficient with one?"

Garrus nodded, drawing from his in depth study of the team's bio and dossiers, "that's correct."

"It's settled then. The pistols will go to any who have combat experience but not military. The rest will have to use biotics if they have them or whatever they can find as a weapon."

The krogan motioned to the two SpecTres, "what about you two?"

Saren lightly tapped his sword with one hand and raised the other, a blue aura surrounding it.

"I also have my pistol. Other than that I'll be fine."

The group turned to Nihlus who had a modified assault rifle on his back, the pistol on his leg, and a talon attached to his breastplate, "I'm good too."

Saren nodded, "everything seems to be taken care of then. I want the first watch to begin immediately," he commanded walking away with Nihlus in tow.

Wrex and Garrus watched as the two disappeared into the crashed Albatross' interior.

"You ever get the feeling that they know more than their letting on?" Garrus asked the krogan standing next to him.

"Maybe, but if they do, than at least I'll get to kill something," Wrex said with a chuckle as he walked over towards his wounded brother.

Garrus could only shake his head.

XxxxxX

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>March 7<strong>**th**** 2032**

The sound of thunder woke Shepard from his sleep. He looked around expecting to find himself in his home but instead gazed upon the interior of the crypt. He must've fallen asleep.

He rose, looking upon the tomb of his late wife. Grief, guilt, and anger swell up inside of him. He collects the dead flowers resting in the dusty vase dispassionately, almost militaristic in his movements, and exits the crypt.

His eyes immediately flash upwards to the setting sun. He curses himself for his stupidity and charges past the tombstones and dug up graves and climbs into his car. He inserts the key but the vehicle struggles to turn over. Luckily, on the fifth try, the engines rumbles. He puts the humvee into reverse and into the street. He changes gears and then speeds off towards his home, hoping to outrun the sunset.

Shepard arrives home and immediately sets out to secure the house; closing window shutters, dead bolting doors and making sure that the lighting systems are all operational. He then heads to his garage and pops the hood of the humvee, trying to find the reason for its earlier stall.

He finds a clogged vacuum line and spends the next fifteen minutes making the necessary repairs. He shuts the hood and turns the engine on. It starts up without a problem. By then night has already fallen. Shepard turns to the corner of the garage where a couple industrial generators lay idle. He fills them up with a few gas cans that rest nearby and turns them on. They are loud and bulky but when Shepard exits the garage and closes the door, he can barley hear it, so it isn't a problem.

Shepard barley touches his dinner. The visions of Ashley and Kaiden are absent leaving him alone to his thoughts.

He washes his dishes after his meal and sets them neatly in the cupboards. He then heads to his basement. As he passes the medical facility he remembers his low reserve of morphine and chastises himself for not remembering. He makes a mental note to resupply himself tomorrow and proceeds past the curtain. He arrives and takes a seat before his small video library.

His eyes scan his collection. Underneath his own homemade journals sit hundreds of DVDs and video tapes of different movies. Unfortunately, he's seen them all. He shrugs and selects one, but not before grabbing a homemade one above it.

He climbs the stairs and closes the massive door. He walks to the living room and pops in the movie, The Lost Patrol.

It is one of Shepard's favorites. It is a story of a group of British soldiers cracking under the pressure from a numerically superior force of Arabs. Before the movie can even start, he shuts it off, preemptively bored.

His eyes rest upon the homemade tape. He ponders slightly on the reason for which he grabbed it. His hand rests just above it, both desperately wanting to watch and not wanting to at the same time. Finally he caves in and inserts the tape into the player.

The image of his wife Gianna and his daughter washing the car appears before him. Both are dressed in bathing suits and dripping with water. Shepard watches with a slight smile as Ellie tosses soap suds and Gianna douses her with a hose. Gianna turns to the camera and trains the hose on its owner.

"Hey this thing cost a lot of money!" Shepard hears himself exclaim on the TV.

The camera ducks out of the way from the water and the screen trains on Shepard's sandaled feet in typical homemade movie shenanigans. He points the camera back at his wife, the view moving up and down her body in appreciation. Gianna either notices and doesn't care or pretends not to as she stands with one hand placed on her hip.

"How come we're doing all the work?"

Off screen, Ellie laughs, "yeah, I think you should wash the caw daddy!"

"Un-uh," Shepard shakes the camera in accordance with his own head in disagreement, "mommy and I made a bet and she lost."

Gianna splashes water at him again and scoffs with a simile etched on her face, "you cheated!"

The smile on Shepard's face is instantly gone at the mention of the word and he shuts off the TV. He sits on his sofa with his head buried in his hands. In a fit of anger he punches the small coffee table before him, cracking a line in the wood.

Chanting, moaning and drumming snap Shepard to his feet. His breathing becomes sharp.

"_**She-pard! She-pard! She-pard**__"_

Shepard drops to his knees and covers his ears, closing his eyes and pretending that he is in a different, peaceful, place.

"_**She-pard! She-pard! She-pard**_!"

Shepard crawls over to a nearby window and opens the slit. Outside he can see the Reapers gathering as they mournfully wail.

He closes the shutter and heads to his safe room. With the flip of a switch the monitors turn on. He sits before a console and places a set of headphones on his head. He grasps a microphone from underneath his chair and begins playing with the radio frequencies.

"Is anyone out there? Hello! Please, anyone! My name is John Shepard on channel 21548386, please respond!"

He stops and listens but he knows it's to no avail. He's tried this too many times; listening to static for far too long.

"Please! Please!" he cries as his voice turns to sobs, "anyone, I beg of you!"

Shepard places his head on the table as he cries in despair. His fist bangs against the monitor several times.

Suddenly he jerks up. He's heard something although it was fairly faint.

"Hello? Hello?"

There's no response. It sounded like "help"… or maybe that's just his echo… or maybe that's just what he wants to hear.

Shepard scrolls through the different channels trying to find the sound again but he is only met with the dead airways. Outside the drumming and chanting grow louder.

"Leave me alone!" he screams at the walls, "for god's sake!"

The sounds of the reapers intensify.

Shepard rips off the headphones and heads to the stairs. He flips the switches on the panel and lights around the house dim as the ones outside flash on. He darts up to the sniper's nest and picks a pistol up from the table.

He fires blindly into the air in a vain attempt to hit the creature outside his walls.

"Leave me alone! Leave me alone!"

He keeps pulling the trigger long after the clip runs dry. The reapers collectively hiss and snarl at him from their safe distance. He throws the gun into the compound and falls to his knees, tears running down his face.

"Dear Jesus, why? Please. Why?"

Outside the compound and past the perimeter fences, Harbinger gazes at Shepard's emotional breakdown with malice. He speaks in soft words as if Shepard stood right beside him.

"You cannot stop us Shepard. You cannot prevent what is meant to pass. I am the Harbinger of your destruction."

He smiles.

"This hurts you."

XxxxxX

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>March 7<strong>**th**** 2032  
>Albatross Crash Site<strong>

Night had fallen over the dead city. Light from the vast array of fires cast the crash site in an orange glow. Upon Saren's orders, sentries patrol the perimeter although not as alert as the SpecTre would've liked.

Liara sits upright staring into the fire before her. Next to her, Shiala lays prone, fast asleep. She thinks about the crash and tries to remember when she first lost consciousness. She quickly gives up on that idea and positions herself closer to the fire. The winds of the planet were cold and she wanted to get as comfortable as possible.

Looking around she could see Mordin, his assistant Maelon, and Tali huddled around one fire, talking amongst themselves. Liara was glad to see that Mordin did not carry the racist stigma against the quarian people especially to one as undeserving as Tali.

Huddled around their own fire were Wrex and Wreav, the later asleep and the former just staring into the fire with his big shotgun on his lap. The rest of the survivors were in similar states, either asleep, talking or just looking off into space.

She idly thought about where Garrus and the two SpecTres were but then remembered the sentries and it was likely that the three were the most vigilant about the group's safety.

"Would you like some water?"

Liara looked up at Nihlus who was holding out a bottle of water marked LEVO. Since turians and quarians had developed with dextro-amino acids in their system they required a different type of foods. So when the CRC was preparing supplies for the mission they had stocked them with enough supplies for both dextro and levo based people.

Liara took the offering and gobbled down some of the water but not much. She had overheard his conversation with Saren earlier and decided not to use up what little resources they had.

"You know, I was hoping that the next time we spoke would be under better circumstances."

Liara looked at Nihlus whose mandibles flared slightly, "for what?"

"Well," he said with a hint of nervousness, "I was hoping to ask you to dinner… sometime."

Liara felt her face blush and tried desperately to find words. Unnoticed by either of them, Shiala smiled, playing possum.

"I find you interesting Liara. You aren't like most others. You see the galaxy with different eyes."

"I…I…"

"So would you? Do me the honor of your company?"

"S-Sure," Liara uttered.

Nihlus smiled the turian equivalent of a smile and stood to leave.

"I have to report back to watch duty. Talk later?"

Liara nodded and watched him leave. It wasn't the first time she was asked on a date but there was a reason why Liara was single for most of her adult life. She would always find something stupid or humiliating to say to someone and they would either be offended or bored and that would be the end of it.

It was, however, the first time she was propositioned by a turian. She did find their culture and clans interesting but never in a romantic way. Besides it was well known that most turians did not go for aliens. Liara didn't know why but that was just how they worked.

Soft chuckling made Liara turn to Shiala, who had moved onto her back and was looking at her friend with mocking glee.

"You are completely hopeless."

"I don't want to hear it," Liara said returning to her staring contest with the fire.

"To be frank, I was beginning to think that you'd say no… or nothing at all."

"Shiala, please… can we not do this?"

Shiala sat up and placed a hand on Liara's shoulder, "Sweetie, that's just not in the cards."

The green asari cleared her throat.

"You see, when a turian and an asari love each other very much, they go into a bed and they grind on each other until a little blue baby pops out."

Liara scoffed, "Goddess, and you say I'm terrible!"

"Think about what I have to work with," Shiala rebuked.

"I'll pray for you children."

The once rivals laughed. Not at each other in a sense of mockery but in amusement.

"This is what you'll do," Shiala began as if she were instructing a school child, "tomorrow you'll go up to him-"

A loud scream from the darkness cut Shiala off. Both asari turned in the direction of what they thought was its origin and waited. For a few seconds there was nothing save the wind and the crackling of the fire.

But that ended quickly.

"Contact! Contact!" she heard one of the sentries scream followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire.

Liara got to her feet as fast as she could. What could possibly be attacking them, she wondered to herself.

She was answered by Garrus who came running up to the assembled survivors, his sniper rifle already unfolded and in his arms.

"Anyone with a weapon, follow me!" he ordered.

Liara watched as several people stood and began heading after him, Shiala included. At the last second, Liara reached out and grabbed her friend.

"Be careful," she said.

Shiala paused, "you too," and the charged after the others.

Liara waited with the others who were either too badly wounded or had next to zero training, listening to the sounds of yelling and gunfire in the distance.

Against her better judgment, Liara began walking towards the gunfire. Like the others assembled, the look of fear and worry was etched on her face. She passed by the smoldering wreck of the Albatross and the pile of the dead and finally found herself standing amongst the defenders who had taken up a defensive line in one of the many trenches that were scattered about the vicinity of the crash site.

What she saw horrified her.

Coming out of the darkness, like a child's nightmare, were creatures, howling and moaning. Liara could see that they were frail and pale, almost to the point of translucency. They were dressed in rags and moved rather quickly despite their frame. They charged towards the defender's firing line without regard to their own well being. However, every one that fell, it seemed that two would take its place. Liara could see even more creatures appearing from the surrounding buildings and structures.

It looked as if the whole of the planet was trying to kill them. As if they had ignorantly trespassed on some sacred ground.

Liara raised her arm, determined to assist in any way she could. She felt a cold sensation rush through her arm as she sent a wave of biotic power towards the horde facing them. She saw several creatures fly into the back ranks but was horrified to see them stand right back up and resume their charge.

She was about to unleash another blast when she felt a hand land on her shoulder and twist her around. She stared into Nihlus' confused eyes before the turian finally found his voice.

"What are you doing here? You should be with the others!" he yelled over the gunfire and moaning.

Liara brushed his hand away, "I will not sit by and be some defenseless victim! I can handle myself."

Liara watched as Nihlus contemplated her argument. Finally he nodded and handed her his pistol.

"Can you use this?"

"Like I said-"

"You can handle yourself," Nihlus interrupt as he return to the line and resumed firing.

Liara raised her own weapon, remembering the first time she'd ever fired one. She was only 23 at the time, still a child to most other races' eyes. The Rachni were spreading to too many planets and the Krogan had just entered the fight. Her mother was on leave on Illium and taught her how to use it. Weapons had changed since then, but the principle was the same.

She sighted down on a target, a female she assumed if the breast were any indication, and fired twice. She watched as a cloud of red blood flew from the exit wounds on the creature's back. The abomination slumped forward and was consumed by the horde that was growing nearer.

She heard Saren shout and looked over to see him grab a salarian dressed in black armor.

"Kirahee, take three men and cover our six!"

The salarian, Kirahee, did so without question and picked three defenders at random. The four ran to where Liara had just come from and disappeared from view.

Liara watched as a visible ring of bodies began to form around the defenders. Gunshots and screaming from behind her told her that Kirahee and his team had encountered more creatures and silently thanked Saren for his choice.

The boom of Garrus's sniper snapped her back to the battle. Simultaneously she searched the faces of the defenders for Shiala and spotted her standing next to Nihlus.

Liara fired until she felt like her arm was going to fall off. She then heard the one sound she dreaded to hear; the sound of an overheated weapon.

One by one the defenders' weapons overheated and the creatures began advancing closer and closer. Those with biotics began sending wave after wave into the horde but it was too little too late and like two armies armed with swords and shields, the creatures collided with the defenders' line.

She saw Saren unsheathe his own sword as he began to chop off limbs and pierce flesh. She heard Wrex as he let loose a bellowing roar and charged right into a group aiming for him, bowling them over like pins.

She heard someone scream and watched as an asari was dragged off into the darkness by several of the creatures. She silently prayed to the goddess that whatever the creatures had in store for her, they would be merciful. The sounds of the asari screaming in pain told her otherwise.

To her right she saw a creature tackle Mordin only to be blasted off by Tali and her cooled-off shotgun. As the quarian bent over to help Mordin up, she too was slammed into the ground, the creature on top of her howling with rage and hunger began to pummel her suit and visor with haymakers and punches. All of a sudden the creature was on fire and fell to the ground thrashing about to try and douse the flames dancing over its skin. Tali looked up to see Mordin, his arm stretched outwards and his omni-tool activated. A surge of flames erupted from it as he scorched another.

"Flammable!" he observed.

Liara then felt herself get hit from the side and fell to the ground, landing on her back. Her arms instinctively went up to try and defend herself from the creature on top of her. The creatures jaw snapped open and shut rapidly telling Liara exactly what it had in mind for her. A wave of fear washed over her as she struggled to hold the creature back. Slowly but surely she felt her strength leaving her as the creature's mouth drew ever closer. Suddenly the thing ceased moving and was thrown off of her.

A force lifted her off the ground and she found herself staring at Nihlus, one hand clenched firmly around his talon which was dripping with red blood. The look in his eyes told her that death was close by. The turian SpecTre bent over and picked up her dropped pistol, shoving it into her arms.

"Run," he commanded.

Liara looked around, watching as the defender slowly were overrun. Some were carried off into the night, others, she witnessed in horror, were devoured before her.

Nihlus gripped her shoulders and shook her as if he were waking her from a deep sleep. Liara only prayed that that was the case.

"Run!" he commanded more adamantly and pushed her into a running start.

Liara gave one last look at Nihlus and the survivors before entering into a frantic sprint. She dashed past the bodies of those who had died in the crash and the wrecked Albatross. She ran through the blood soaked field of dirt that was once the camp, the fires illuminating the creatures as they devoured those unlucky enough to be weaponless.

She could see Wreav as he used his fists to pummel his attackers but they were too numerous and brought him to the ground. She heard his screams as they ripped off his armor and tore open his thick hide.

She ran further and gazed upon Kirahee as he fired into a crowd that was surrounding him. They pounced on him like a pyjack on discarded food. She felt her gut wrench as two creatures seized his horns and pulled, ripping his face in two.

Liara forced herself to turn away. She ran until all she could see was the narrow streets, illuminated only by the moon hanging overhead.

Pounding feet told her that some of the creatures had begun following her. She peeked over her shoulder and saw three of the blood thirsty creatures charging after her.

She fired blindly at them, still keeping up her pace. She had no idea where she was going but anywhere was better than in the jaws of those… things.

Recalling her experiences from Therum, Liara skidded to a halt and turned. She stretched out her arm and sent two waves of pure biotic power at her pursuers. They flew backwards, landing on the cold concrete ground. Liara wasted no time in disposing of them with her pistol.

She turned and ran again when she heard the moans from more creatures, as if they were responding to the gunshots.

In the distance the gunfire began to subside. After a couple seconds there was nothing save her own heart beating beneath her chest.

Before the creatures could notice her, she slid into a very narrow passage and ducked behind a square metal box with a black lid. She leaned from her cover and saw seven creatures dart down the street past her.

Liara let out a sigh of relief.

She opened up her omni-tool and began scanning through the radio frequencies, praying that someone was left alive.

"Hello? Anyone? Please, someone respond!"

No answer.

"Thessia's Wrath, this is Doctor T'Soni, please come in!"

Again, the same response.

Liara closed her omni-tool and let her head fall against the box. She felt a tear crawl down her face as she replayed the night through her inner eye.

More moaning and howling from nearby made her jump. Her eyes scanned everywhere, her pistol brought to bear, searching for any signs of those creatures. She then noticed the box she was leaning against and lifted the lid.

The stench that greeted her was foul and rotten but she could see that it was enclosed and safe inside. So she climbed in and allowed the lid to close behind her.

Liara T'Soni closed her eyes and prayed that she'd live to see morning.

_**Author's note:  
>Hot Damn!<br>Sorry this chapter took a lot out of me. I really did not expect to cram so much into this chapter but I need Shepard and Liara to meet soon, I feel like I've dragged this along for far too long.  
>Oh, if you feel like having the full experience, re-read Liara's scene with Hellraiser Brigade by Two Steps from Hell. I was listening to it while I was writing and it fit perfectly.<br>So, who do you think survived the attack? If you guess correctly (the amount and their names) you will earn the prize of having an Original Character named after you!**_

_**So… thoughts?**_

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter and tune in tomorrow for Mass Effect Chapter Twelve!  
>Why tomorrow you ask? How could I post three chapters in three days?<br>The thing is, I work nights and everyone I know works during the day. My Xbox is currently under going repairs and I'm pretty much left in my house with my thumb up my ass. Since I'm not into that sort of thing, I guess I'll write.**_


	12. Chapter 12

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

So, yeah… I know I said I would update yesterday but… uh… something came up that required my full attention… so… if you would so kindly back off… lolz  
>BTW your comment made me laugh so thank you.<p>

Bioware and EA own all of Mass Effect…

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco CA  
>March 8<strong>**th**** 3032  
>Shepard Residence<strong>

Shepard sits alone in his darkened safe room, with his knees against his chest and his arms wrapped defensively around them. He rocks back and forth humming some old song he has long forgotten the words to but is still able to recall the melody. Leaning against the wall no more than a foot away is a fully loaded shotgun.

His humming is interceded by his watch's incessant beeping. His eyes do not even glance at it as they stare on ahead, lost in some unknown world.

The beeper soon stops trying to alert its master to its purpose and shuts off. Finally he rises and opens the shutter, allowing the sunlight to pour in.

He winces slightly, adjusting to the change in lighting. He sighs, taking in the ambient beauty but finds no comfort in it.

He immediately begins his morning routine.

Shepard works out as usual, but this time forgoing his music and just listens to the television. His sweaty frame hops in the shower afterwards and curses at the unexpected cold water. He bears it stoically albeit at a hurried pace. Exiting the shower, with a towel wrapped firmly around his waist, he begins to wash his face and brush his teeth.

He takes a moment to stare at the man looking back at him with unfamiliar eyes. But the man in the mirror mimics his every move as if he possessed the trait of foresight. He smiles, not recognizing himself. _Good_, he thinks, _John Shepard is dead along with his family and his friends_.

A thought strikes him.

"So who the hell are you?" he asks aloud pointing a finger at the reflection who points right back. He chuckles at his own amusement and finishes his bathroom duties.

He heads to the kitchen in an attempt to make himself breakfast. But he isn't hungry so he decides to skip it.

Shepard exits through his front door and onto his compound. He patrols the fences and the moat, looking for any deformities with piercing eyes. Whichever problems he spots he takes the necessary time to fix them, using the utmost care and precision in his movements.

Once finished, he pulls out his map and studies the city painted on it. He looks at his previous markings, spots he has planned on excavating and booby trapping. He selects one at random and begins to get ready.

For this day, Shepard decides to only bring along his rifle and his pistol. He straps on his holster and vest before throwing on his long trench coat. He ties his hair back and stuffs it underneath the flap of his coat. He digs through the various pockets and pulls out a pair of finger-less gloves. He pulls them on, flexing his hand to get used to their feeling.

Finally finished preparing he heads to his garage. He checks to make sure he has the appropriate tools in his toll box and the right amount of wire. Satisfied, he dons a pair of new sunglasses and drives off.

Shepard drives over the streets absent care for the rules of the road. His face is emotionless and the interior of his humvee is quiet.

He passes through the Civic Center, taking in the sights. He's seen them before but he feels almost as if it is his duty to remember what they used to be. He has no idea for the reason behind it; it just seems to come to him.

City Hall is in ruins, missing almost an entire wall-face. The federal building is blown to bits, barley standing from what looks to be a direct strike from some bomb or missile. The library is charred and crumbling, once a victim to a raging fire. The structure is still standing, however, intact.

Shepard drives through. He soon finds himself on the Embarcadero, near the bay bridge. He parks and exits, looking around with the butt of his rifle squared neatly against his shoulder.

The Embarcadero rests along the eastern waterfront and roadway of the Port San Francisco. It overlooks the harbor, Bay Bridge, and, in the distance, Oakland. It was first constructed back in the 1860s but not completed until the 1920s.

Shepard stands atop of the engineered seawall of reclaimed land, gazing off onto the bay. He can still see the ruined military equipment that lies atop of the Bay Bridge. The ghosts of those that had died in the unsuccessful quarantine operation call out to him, the only survivor.

Below that sits Treasure Island. Abandoned Navy ships of different sizes and classes drift around it with other civilian boats. All lie half submerged or ravaged in some way or another. The military had tried to use the island as a base of operations. Tried, being the optimal word.

Around him are the remains of cars, trucks and other assorted vehicles. Each is in the same state; overturned, burned and rusting in the sunlight.

Shepard turns away and opens the rear-drivers side door. He pulls out his tool-box and spindle of wire. He walks up to a lamppost, the coil of wire over his shoulder. With his eyes, he measures the length and tosses it over the arm of the lamppost. He then proceeds to make an intricate snare out of the cable.

Once tight and secure, he then pulls out his knife and a rag. He gives himself a small cut and places the rag on it. When he pulls the rag away it is soaked with his blood. He places it at the base of the trap as bait. Any ferals, familiars, or Reapers that discover it will find themselves caught and helpless.

He then goes on to construct five more traps, each twenty yards apart from each other. He's about to build a sixth, but realizes he won't have enough wire. By this time the sun is nearing its peek. He returns to his humvee, placing his rifle on the roof and takes his vest and coat off. He gulps down some water and pulls up the sleeves on his body suit hidden underneath his loose black shirt and wipes away a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Damn, it's a hot one today," he says aloud.

He grabs an extra spool of wire and heads to his unfinished contraption. He repeats his previous action and is ready to bait it when he suddenly stops; absolutely dead stops.

Standing before him, dressed in her white night gown, is his late wife. The dress is pristine save a dark red circle on its midsection.

Shepard just stares, blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear his vision, to make sure he's actually seeing what he's seeing. He makes a few steps towards her but soon stops out of hesitation.

Gianna stretches her hands out to him, "John…"

Shepard begins to back away, his face full of fear.

"No…" he utters softly, barely above a whisper.

"…Come to me…" Gianna says with a predatory grin on her face.

"No… no, no, no, no, no, no," he keeps repeating as he slowly backs up.

"Come be with us," his wife offers.

Shepard unsheathes his pistol and fires madly at Gianna, bullets ripping into her body, blood flying out her back at odd angles. Gianna falls onto the blood soaked pavement.

The smoking gun in Shepard's hand shakes violently. He can't believe what he's done. He goes to put the gun to his own head but stops when he sees Gianna slowly rise.

She stands, as if Shepard's bullets were made of air. She smiles at him, her teeth bared and ready.

"No!" he points a jabbing and accusing finger at her, "NO!"

He throws the gun at her and begins back pedaling towards his humvee with more haste. His eyes remain locked on Gianna who glares at him like a lion gazes upon a gazelle.

"Skipper!"

The shout causes him to look down. A soft _TING_ makes his eyes widen. He looks back up to see his wife has vanished. Instantly and without warning he is jerked off his feet, the wire from his trap wrapping tightly around his ankle.

His head collides with the asphalt as the snare pulls him upwards. The snare locks into place and Shepard hangs there upside down. He can feel the soft trickle of blood that falls from the open gash on the back of his head and onto the street five feet below.

His eyes flutter as he loses consciousness. Before he can black out he can almost hear a woman's laugh. But he pays it no heed and succumbs to the darkness enveloping him.

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco CA  
>March 8<strong>**th**** 2032  
>Unknown Location<strong>

The sky was red the next morning.

Liara tentatively and slowly opens the lid to her shelter. Her eyes dart left and right, searching for any sign of the creatures that had attacked the night before. Her ears listen for the unmistakable howling or moaning. After a couple minutes she grows satisfied with the level of quiet and exits the metal box.

As she goes to brush herself off, she realizes that her lab coat is ripped and covered in grime and blood. Her eyes lock in on the blue splotches that ruin the once white garment, memories of people being eaten and torn apart play across her mind.

Frantically, her hands swat at the blood, as if they were insects crawling over her body. She whimpers in fright when the blood does not come off. Eventually she opts to remove it completely, a simple grey-blue shirt covering her. She folds her arms as she begins to walk, covering herself from the early morning chills. The cold metal of the gun that is stuck in her pants does nothing but exacerbate the feeling.

She stops in the middle of the street after exiting the alleyway, contemplating whether or not to return to the crash site. She has no idea if the creatures were still there and decides not to risk it. Looking to the east, she can see a long stretch of road, covered in debris and ruined buildings. She nods, deciding that anywhere where those creatures aren't is better than the alternative.

She opens her omni-tool for what feels like the millionth time in the past twelve hours and begins scanning the comm. channels. It feels futile, but it is the only sliver of comfort she has at the moment.

"Thessia's Wrath, come in….anyone…please, come in…"

She waits for thirty seconds and repeats her questions. Again, like every time she has tried before, the airways respond with static.

Her stomach growls slightly and her throat is dry. Immediately she begins to feel hunger and thirst. She tries to remember the last time she ate… and cannot. She instantly regrets giving Nihlus the water bottle back. She could survive for a while without food but not without water.

She looks around as sees nothing but dust blowing in the wind. Like a bag of brick the situation finally hits her.

She is alone.

She sobs quietly, cursing both the goddess and the Committee.

How could the Committee have sent them here with next to zero information? Why didn't they send more ships or soldiers? How could this have happened?

The questions and blame flow like river. She can't help herself. In a normal situation she would have tried to stay rational and observant. But fear is clouding her mind. It is forcing her to think of the worst case scenario in everything.

She turns and begins walking down the wide street of pavement, passing by the charred remains of some four wheeled vehicles and flourishing plant life. The entire ruin seems hostile to her, as if the planet itself was out to kill her. More so because she survived the previous night, while many others died.

_Or most likely everyone…_

She continues on nevertheless, keeping one hand on her pistol and her head on a swivel.

Liara does not belong here and she knows it. She is a scientist, an archeologist, not a soldier. She was born to dig bones and unearth forgotten structures. Not marching through hostile territory with nothing save a dinky pistol and her biotics. She isn't trained for this and it shows.

She walks for what feels like hours. The sun is just nearing its peak in the sky and she feels herself sweating through her thin shirt. The wind is blowing but it feels just as dead as the city she is navigating through.

A few times she has to change direction due to buildings that now lay on their sides. She has no idea where she was walking but it feels like the right thing to do, just keep walking.

Finally she hears the sound of rushing water and smiles at her fortune. Maybe the goddess heard her prayers and is throwing her a shred of mercy. She charges past the ruins with reckless abandon and comes to a large flowing river. To her left, in the distance, sits the bridge she saw from the scans. She rushes to the water's edge and dips her hands into the water. Her hands form a cup and she brings it to her lips, almost smelling the waters of life.

She suddenly stops as a thought dawns on her.

She has no idea if the water is safe to drink or not and unfortunately she does not posses the right tools to determine if that is the case. Sadly, she allows her hands to part and watches forlornly as the water returns to its source. It is so close and yet so far away.

She stands and sighs, looking around and seeing nothing but dead infrastructure. She begins making her way towards the bridge

The sound of shots off in the distance make her stop and turn. Her head cranes as she points her ears towards the sky, as if that would somehow amplify her hearing.

It comes again. She had no idea what is causing it but it offers her something that she has previously been without.

An objective.

It is something just as simple as that, to now have a direction to head to, a purpose. Before, it was just aimless wandering without a clear goal.

But now…

_Maybe someone is still alive?_

After all, what else could have made that noise? It wasn't loud enough to be a falling building. She had heard that happen last night.

_Liara just sits there, in her small and disgusting refuge, counting away the seconds until the sounds of the creatures disappeared. She hasn't dared to open her omni-tool, fearing that its light could be seen by those things. She tried to sleep but decided against it. If she was ever discovered, she would be helpless to defend herself. She also tried praying but it offered next to no comfort. Why would the goddess save her when thousands of others in the galaxy needed help?_

_Suddenly, as if the goddess had read her blasphemous thoughts, she hears a loud groaning. Liara's hands reach up to cover her ears but it does her no good. She can hear as clear as day. The groaning of metal persists followed by loud booming. She can hear it all around her and fears it to be some other form of creature._

"_Goddess, I apologize for my intrusion. You are most wise and all knowing, I never meant to offend you…" she pleads to the deity, uttering prayer after prayer, recalling nights all those years ago, kneeling by her bed and following her mother in praise._

_Outside her haven, she could hear the frightened shrieks of the creatures and their pounding feet as they run away._

_Finally it seems as if the whole world shakes and the noise is gone. The creatures howl in rage but their cries are distant._

_Liara takes a deep breath and counts to three. At three, she opens the lid, only slightly, and peeks out. Her eyes blink at the dust that rushes in at her and she suppresses the urge to cough. She immediately closes the lid. Judging from the dust and the sounds, she is willing to bet that a building had fallen, much like the fragile Prothean ruins she often unearthed._

_She closes her eyes and resumes counting the minutes, trying to remember where she left off at._

Taking a deep breath, Liara began walking in the direction of the noise, wishing with all her being that she would fall upon a familiar face.

_**Author's Note:  
>So I've decided to start cutting the chapter a bit shorter. It's more dramatic and it doesn't wear me out as quickly as the past couple has done. In the past three chapters I've written over fifteen hundred words and at this rate I won't be able to finish and retain my sanity.<br>Thank you all for your reviews, I do appreciate them. Still running strong on the OC contest though so keep guessing and you'll eventually get it.  
>Hope you've enjoyed the chapter and stayed tuned for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Thirteen! <strong>_


	13. Chapter 13

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

Thank you for the reviews! As a writer, reviews are like water in a dry desert, you keep me going.  
>Oh and um, Liara is not naked. If you look at her in-game you can see pants underneath the coat. I thought that was fairly obvious so I didn't bother adding it. Don't worry, mistakes happen.<p>

Mass Effect is owned by Bioware and EA

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco CA  
>March 8<strong>**th**** 2032**

Taking a deep breath, Liara begins walking in the direction of the noise, wishing with all her being that she would fall upon a familiar face.

She stops again when she thinks she hears yelling. Whatever was said was unintelligible due to the distance but that isn't what has Liara turning her slow careful walk into an all out sprint.

Voices mean people. People mean survivors. Survivors mean rescue.

Possibilities flood her mind as she tries to ponder who it could be. Was it Shiala or Nihlus? Or maybe it is Garrus or Wrex? Could it be Saren or Mordin or Tali?

Liara doesn't care. She just wants to see someone again. Although it has been under twenty-four hours she can't fathom the idea of being alone anymore.

A smile is seemingly etched on her face.

"Hello!" she calls out ahead, hoping that the sound of her voice will carry over the distance faster than her legs could carry her.

She stops abruptly as she spies a vehicle that looks out of place among the others. She draws her pistol and approaches it cautiously.

Liara goes into scientist mode.

The first thing that she spots is the rifle looking thing resting on the vehicle's roof. It looks like a gun but it lacks any kind of sleek design that she knows populates weapons around the galaxy. There is also some kind of banana shaped object sticking out from underneath it. She can only speculate on its purpose but she is fairly certain that the object is a firearm of some kind.

Next, she observes the interior. Unlike most of the charred automobiles that she had seen already since waking up today, the interior looks maintained and refurbished. Armor plating covers every window except for the one towards the front. Whoever owns this piece of metal and rubber is clearly preparing for something.

Just before she is going to continue onwards, Liara spots a long flowing coat next to the rifle. It is warm by the touch but not because the sun is blaring down upon it. It feels more like natural body heat. She lifts it up and holds it out before her.

Judging from the size, she'd say that whoever or whatever this coat belongs to, they had to be of fairly reasonable height. But seeing the vest lying next to it, she decides that they couldn't be too large in width.

Her thoughts immediately go to Nihlus, Saren, and Garrus who all fit that description pretty well.

She places the coat where she found it and continues to walk, observing the strange contraptions hanging from nearby posts.

Her eyes and her mind are so glued to the contraptions that she doesn't realize she's walked into something until she actually does.

Liara jumps back, bringing the pistol to shoulder level. What she sees makes her stutter and gasp.

One of the creatures from the CRC briefing that Andralla showed is hanging right before her.

The creature's head is covered in the same tuffs of fur, its mouth slightly opened but obscured by the long strands of fur that covers its' face. Its long and tanned arms hang downwards, his one leg stretched in accordance to the wire that it is attached to, while the other is bent slightly.

Looking down, she can see a small pool of red blood. Her mind instantly goes back to the night of the attack and remembers Nihlus' talon covered in the same substance.

The creature suddenly mumbles something and Liara jumps back in surprise with a small yelp. Looking closer she can see that the creature is unconscious, if the closed eyes, expanding and deflating chest, and unmoving limbs are any indication.

So Liara did the one thing anyone in that position would do.

She leans in and pokes it with the barrel of her pistol.

The creature's eyes are open in a flash. Before she can even do anything she feels the worst pain she has ever felt in her life smash into her cheek.

The gun falls from her hands and she begins to lose feeling in her legs. Darkness swarms her and she is unable to resist.

XxxxxX

Shepard was having a rather good dream

He dreamt about the first time his team was reunited, a couple weeks just before the virus entered into its unstoppable warpath.

The entire team gathered at Denny's, due to the early hours and were enjoying themselves, laughing at Jacob as he did his old spice commercial impersonation.

Then, like a drop of water is a sea of sand, the dream dissipates and Shepard opens his eyes to see the oddest, strangest thing he has ever seen in his entire life. This, coming from a guy who spent the last ten years fighting a solitary war against things that were not supposed to exist.

On reflex, his hand shoots out and strikes the creature's cheek. He watches as its legs buckle and it drops to the ground, unconscious.

_And down goes Frasier…_ he chuckles to himself.

That is when his situation came flooding back to him. Glancing upwards, he can see the wire still attached to his ankle. His fingers feel through his hair and he finds the gash he has received from the asphalt.

Then he remembers Gianna.

Using his body weight, Shepard swings around like a pendulum, his eyes scanning the ruins. He doesn't see her and so he returns to assessing his situation. He's still a little dizzy but he struggles to regain his clarity

Looking upwards at the sun, he can see that it is past midday. His eyes lock in on the lamppost and he tries swinging towards it. This only causes him more pain and he returns to his previous dangling state, drawing deep sharp breaths through his teeth.

His head twists and turns, trying to find any avenue for escape. In a constant state of paranoia, something he has gained over the years, Shepard's eyes flicker to the sun every couple of seconds. Something glittering in the sunlight catches his attention and he smiles.

The knife, still stuck in his boot-sheathe. Shepard grips his captured leg with both hands and makes a grab for it. The first attempt is to no avail and he flops back down in soft pained gasps.

This time, he counts to three and makes another go. This time, his hands wrap around it and he slides it out of its holster. He goes back to his rest position and prepares himself for what he knows he must do.

Shepard grasps his leg once again with his left hand while using the knife to slowly saw at the wire.

Throughout his military career, Shepard had been taught that pain is only weakness leaving the body. Pain is abstract; a certain set of neurons that are being sent through the brain. The trick is to try and control that, to push your attention away from the pain and focus on your objective. It is not easy at all and takes many years of practice to master, but Shepard felt that he had a good grasp on the concept.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Shepard slowly cuts into the wire.

"How's the weather up there?"

Shepard gazes over his shoulder, not faltering in his saw job. He sees Kaiden standing nearby with a smug expression on his face.

"Very… funny… Alenko…" Shepard says as he turns his attention back to the wire, breathing deep and hard.

"How **do** you get yourself into these situations?"

Shepard's head turns to glare at Kaiden throwing him a look that has sent many men to early graves.

"Instead of poking fun at me, can you possibly give me a-"

TWING!

Shepard's knife finally cuts through the wire and releases an unprepared Shepard. He enters a free fall and lands hard on the pavement below. He feels one of the bones in his right wrist break but that is the least of his worries.

During his rough landing Shepard lands accidently on the knife. Its' pointed tip and sharpened steel easily piercing the soft meat of his thigh.

Shepard howls in pain. He reaches to pull it out but he has reached with the arm with the broken wrist. He screams again in agony

"AHHH! Oh, shit!"

Shepard rolls over onto his side, feeling for the handle with his good hand and braces himself for what must be done.

"One… two…"

He pulls the knife out and screams. His vision swims and for the second time today, he blacks out.

XxxxxX

_Shepard and Anderson stand on a hill overlooking San Francisco._

_Shepard is all that remains of his team. Everyone else is dead or missing and the Quarantine has failed. The U.S. military had tried falling back but the sheer amount of infected forms overwhelmed them. There is not any doubt in Shepard's mind that the virus would spread. If Ground Zero couldn't be isolated what chance would the rest of the world have?_

_There are 192 nations on the planet, not counting the dozen or so territories and colonies. The virus was reported to be legally in One Hundred and Eighty Three of those nations while the rest had obtained it through the black market. When Anderson had told him that the virus went global, he didn't really put it into perspective. But now, watching as the infection strolled through San Francisco without any one left to defend it… that put things into perspective._

"_My God," exclaims Anderson as he looks onto the city, his voice distorted and almost mechanical by his helmet, "they're fire-bombing the city."_

_The two N7s watch as F-17 Raptors pass over the city, dropping Napalm onto it. They watch as the fire climbs towards the sky, spreading outwards in all directions. Other F-117 Nighthawks drops other assortments of bombs. In the distance, away from the fire and bombs, are the sounds of gunfire and Shepard can make out the muzzle flashes from the weapons. San Francisco, a place he called home for five years, had turned into a warzone._

_Shepard unclasps his all black enclosed helmet and lets it drop to the ground. He unlocks his armor clasps and feels as one by one the pieces of his Mk II combat armor fall apart._

_He continues to stare, the light from the fire dancing across his face and reflecting in his eyes._

_He can hear Anderson's labored breathing next to him, but his attention is focusing on the city. The buildings, once tall and proud, are now reduced to ruins. The streets are consumed by civilians trying to flee and soldiers trying to buy them time._

"_Any word on the Hills District?" Shepard asks._

_Anderson shakes his head, "No… Mikhailovich isn't responding to any of my comms. Neither is Hackett."_

_Shepard's head hangs. He knew it was a long shot but he had to ask._

_The sound of Anderson pulling the hammer back on his pistol causes Shepard to turn. His gaze falls to the pistol that his mentor is handing to him. Shepard's hand grasps it and he claims it as his own._

_Anderson pulls his helmet off and Shepard can see the beginning stages of the infection present. The elder black man's hair is falling out, his eyes are sunken back and his skin is wet with sweat._

"_I need you to do me a favor," Anderson asks, his voice weak from the pain of the virus coursing through his veins._

_Shepard already knows what he is going to say, "you know I can't do that."_

_Anderson dismisses him, "we both… we both know what is going to happen to me. I refuse to become like those things. Grant me this small amount of mercy," he asks, his voice pleading._

_Shepard can only stare into the man's eyes. He nods and places the pistol on Anderson's forehead._

"_It's been honor, sir."_

_Anderson smiles, "make it count Shepard."_

_The gun fires…_

XxxxxX

Shepard bolts upright and immediately regrets the action. His leg is throbbing and stinging, a small pool of blood is slowly forming around it. His wrist is swollen and piercing and he has a large bump on his forehead.

He lies back down his eyes staring up into the sea of stars.

_Stars?_

He glances around. It is night.

The look of terror on Shepard's face is unmistakable.

The atmosphere of the Embarcadero has changed. What was once dead silence is now replaced by noises. Some of it is far off, others are close by. Activity is all around him. There is life. Some kind of twisted and deformed life but life nonetheless.

Shepard can see the humvee about fifty yards away. It is a short distance but for Shepard, in this state and his condition, it may as well be fifty miles. He does a quick check on his thigh and sees that the blood has coagulated. He rips part of his shirt as to make a tourniquet but with his broken limb it is more difficult than it needs to be. Nevertheless he manages to stop the bleeding.

He tries to stand but that's a joke. He quickly falls back on the ground, pain flowing through his body like an Olympic swimmer. He begins shimmying his way to the humvee, his hand grasping the knife just in case.

He doesn't make it very far before bumping into the still prone and unconscious creature that had woken him up.

His eyes study the creature as he tries to figure out what it is.

Its skin is as blue as the sky on a clear, cloudless day. Instead of hair, Shepard can see what looks like tentacles that start at what is presumable a hairline, and travel backwards over the top of the skull. Judging by the lumps on the creature's chest and its body structure, Shepard deduces that the creature is female.

_Maybe it's a new reaper? Are they changing? Evolving?_

Before he can do anything else, a person approaches him. He spins onto his back, instantly going into a defensive position. He relaxes slightly when he sees it is only Ashley.

"This is it," she says in the manner a fortune teller would tell a customer, "this is when all paths converge. Everything has led to this point. But only you can decide what happens next."

"How the hell am I supposed to know what to do?" he says with an understandable outburst.

Ashley kneels next to the creature, slightly stroking its face.

"What does your mind tell you to do?"

Shepard's response is immediate, "kill her, just to be safe."

Ashley nods, "and what does your heart tell you?"

Shepard does answer. A feeling of compassion and caring, emotions he had let die for the sake of survival, swell up inside of him. He does not know why but something seems to be urging Shepard to spare the blue female. He finally makes a decision.

"Damn it."

Shepard begins to formulate a plan in his head. The first thing to do is to get to the humvee. After that, his odds of success will dramatically increase.

He continues to crawl towards the truck. There is movement all around him; the sounds of footsteps circle the area. He begins to accelerate his pace, attempting to ignore the pain.

Then he hears it; growling and snarling. The realization dawns on him.

Those weren't footsteps… those were paws.

Shepard knows what is coming and it terrifies him. It is one of the many reasons he does not go out at night. He tries to stand again but his leg gives out and he lands hard on his wrist. He suppresses the urge to scream, using his good arm to continue crawling.

He stops dead when he sees the first aggressor.

It is a dog, or what used to be a dog. What was once referred to as man's best friend is anything but. Shepard can see that it was once a Doberman, but the reaper infection has taken its toll on the once friendly creature, rendering it hairless and vicious.

The Reaper Doberman stands upon a piece of concrete and gazes upon Shepard and the blue female with predatory grey-blue eyes. The beast's fangs are barred, revealing a set of needle sharp jagged teeth. It lifts its head towards the sky and howls.

It asses its prey and barks.

Shepard looks back to humvee and spots his rifle on the hood. He does not stop crawling; his objective is about twenty yards and closing.

Responding to the Doberman's call, four more reaper dogs appear; a Dane, a Greyhound, a German Sheppard, and a Husky. All are hairless and have the same icy grey-blue eyes. Their teeth are all sharp and pointed. Shepard winces slightly at the thought of those teeth piercing his flesh and clutches his knife tightly.

Only ten more yards!

The Doberman barks and the attack begins, two of the five rushing in.

The faster Husky reaches Shepard first, the veteran only five yards away from his weapon. The reaper hound pounces on him. Shepard lashes out with his knife across the dog's belly. The creature howls in pain but retaliates by biting into Shepard's thigh. Shepard screams in agony.

He knees the Husky in his ribs as the other dog, the Greyhound, bites into his broken wrist. The pain is unimaginable but Shepard does not give in. He twists the knife around so the tip is pointed at the ground and stabs the Greyhound in its neck, again and again. Blood splashes over him as the dog goes limp.

He turns to see the Husky in a midair leap. Shepard brings his arm up to defend himself as the creature's jaws snap down. By this time, the adrenaline in Shepard's system is pulsing and the pain does not feel as bad as it should. It still hurts, but it isn't as debilitating as before.

The Husky snaps its head from left to right manically, trying to tear Shepard's flesh from his bones. Before that can happen, Shepard stabs the creature in its gut. His knife exits and enters like a convict in the prison showers, piercing the dog without mercy.

Finally, the dog's jaw loosens and its eyes glaze over.

Bleeding profusely, Shepard resumes his crawl. He nears the truck as the Sheppard and the Dane begin their charge.

Knowing that he has only one chance left, Shepard summons every ounce of his strength and adrenaline in his body. He rises to his feet and unleashes a guttural, primordial scream. Grimacing and denying the pain, Shepard limps towards the humvee, forcing his battered limbs to move forward.

His hand instantly darts for the rifle.

Shepard's left hand firmly grips the handle while using his right forearm to balance the gun which feels much heavier than usual.

He turns at points it directly at the two hounds bearing down on him. He opens up with a spray of poorly aimed shots but it has the desired effect. The German Sheppard's stomach is torn apart and the Dane suffers a single lucky head shot. The Sheppard writhes painfully on the ground before it dies from blood loss.

Shepard lets out a sigh and allows himself to relax. Suddenly he remembers the Doberman and turns just as the hound tackles him to the ground. The Doberman's jaws close on Shepard's shoulder. He screams in agony as the dog begins to tear.

Shepard punches the creature madly. He clutches the dog ear and rips it off. The hound still won't let go. Finally, Shepard digs his thumb into its eye and it whines in pain finally letting go; a fatal move. Utilizing the sudden change in distance, Shepard brings up his gun and bashes the Doberman with the rifle butt, causing the creature to back up even more.

Shepard twists the rifle around and paints the creature with lead until it falls, dead.

Shepard lies there for a second, regaining his composure. Griping the open door frame for support, Shepard returns to his feet. He uses the rifle as a crutch and begins making his way over to the female.

Painfully, he bends over and hefts her over his unwounded shoulder. He turns and begins making his way back, every nerve in his body protesting in pain. He does his best to ignore it.

He places the blue female as gently as possible into the back seat before climbing behind the wheel, preparing for the next faze of his plan.

_**Author's Note:  
>So here we are, the long awaited meeting between Liara and Shepard. Let me know if you enjoyed this or if you have problems with it.<br>A few notes here…  
>One being that the scene with Anderson will be explained in detail later.<br>Two, Shepard does not know or think that Liara is an alien… yet. At this moment he believes her to be a new type of Reaper form.  
>Three, how can Liara be unconscious for as long as she is, you ask. Well, Shepard is a badass and his punches hurt. Beside, Liara is a civilian and unused to that kind of punishment. That was the end result.<strong>_

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter, a please share your thoughts on what transpired. Tube in next time for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Fourteen!**_


	14. Chapter 14

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

Sorry for the long wait for this chapter. I've been busy shedding man-tears on account of Mass Effect 3 and I think I've finally exited my stage of depression and found the will to continue writing.

WHY BIOWRE? WHY!

As of 4-09-12 this chapter has been revised.

**WARNING**!  
>This chapter contains violent scenes, blood and gore, and the occasional verbal expletive. Viewer discretion is advised.<p>

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco CA  
>March 8<strong>**th**** 2032**

The next phase of Shepard's plan could be considered one of the most reckless, asinine, and borderline retarded plans constructed in the history of mankind. Nevertheless, Shepard knows that it is his only hope for survival.

Keeping an ever alert gaze on his surroundings and ignoring the pain coursing through his body, Shepard drives through the dark streets of San Francisco with the intent of making it home in one piece.

Glancing to his left, Shepard sees the core backbone of phase two, in what he is now calling Operation Get-the-fuck-home-without-ending-up-as-dinner. A can of gasoline sits on the passenger's side seat, rocking back and forth in harmony to every bump and crack Shepard drives over. Sticking out of the can's top is one of the many rags Shepard had been using to bait his traps.

He feels a tad apprehensive as he reviews what he must do in order to reach the refuge of his home but his sheer willpower and determination help to settle whatever nerves are clouding up his focus.

With his unmolested hand on the steering wheel and the other cradled in a sling, Shepard drives on, ready to face what ever horrors may await.

XxxxxX

Harbinger walks a few paces in front of his army of reapers as they slowly and patiently approach the home of their sworn enemy. Once they arrive, Vigil instructs his clergy to begin the ceremonious chanting and drumming. The Warrior Lieutenant spurs her troops into a frenzy; getting them pumped and ready for the battle.

The Reaper king takes his place upon his alter and stares out onto Shepard's compound. At first he begins his usual assessment of possible weakness in the walls or potential blind spots from Shepard's nest, but soon realizes that his battlefield is dark.

The lights that Shepard has arrayed around his home are off, there is no music to counter Vigil's drums, and there seems to be no activity from inside the house.

Vigil, noticing this as well, approaches his master's side.

"Is it a trap?"

Harbinger's eyes squint as he tries to see through some possible ruse. His mind races through all possibilities and outcomes, like a master chess player trying to guess his opponent's move before he can even think of it.

"No," Harbinger finally utters when he sees no ambush or carefully laid plan to lure in the reapers.

Harbinger leaps off the throne and motions for his warriors to follow him. The most eager of the reapers charge on ahead throwing caution to the wind. Harbinger however moves at a steady trot, keeping his head on a swivel, looking for anything out of place.

_Today just might be the day I have been waiting for_, he though confidently, _today Shepard falls and the dominion of man finally comes crashing down_.

XxxxxX

Shepard's humvee rests just outside the reapers field of view. Its one conscious passenger watching as the reapers enter into his compound full of confidence.

He gives the gas can a light pat as he waits for the opportune moment to strike. He checks the handgun resting in his torso vest, making sure it is fully loaded. He undoes his sling and carefully test out his injured wrist. Its still stings something awful but he knows he must exacerbate it furthur. Satisfied that all contingencies have been planned for, Shepard brings the humvee into a slow crawl.

The humvee, with the lights off, clocks in at ten miles per hour, slowly making its way up the hill.

Unsuspecting, the reapers have no idea that Shepard is creeping up on them. Their chanting and drumming block out the noise from the humvee's engine.

Suddenly, Shepard puts his foot down and violently accelerates the humvee, watching the speedometer climb upwards. He reaches over to the laptop imbedded in the dashboard and enters a series of commands.

Lights all around the house flash on. Some of the reapers are blinded by the sudden illumination causing some to fall into the spike pits or wound themselves fatally on the barbed wire.

Harbinger winces as the lights turn on, his arm rising to cover his eyes, his jaw set in a permanent scowl. He knew this would happen but it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Shepard's humvee nears the reapers' back ranks. At the very last second, he flashes on his high beams and rams into them. Bodies of reaper clergy and nurses fly in every direction as he carves a path right through the horde. A few react like deer in the headlights as they freeze in terror, allowing Shepard to run them right over.

Harbinger, now noticing that Shepard is outside of the gate, bellows to his troops.

"Stop him!"

Like a pre-industrial army, the reapers form up in a block formation in front of the compound's main gate, Shepard's only entrance. A second command from Harbinger sends the lot of them charging right towards the speeding truck.

Shepard, eyes focused and unwavering, continues on his path.

At the last second, Shepard skids to a stop.

The reapers converge on the humvee. The light from the high intensity bulbs on top of the humvee blinds and burns them but they can't let this opportunity slide. They must get Shepard.

Un-holstering his pistol, Shepard rises and pops open the humvee's top hatch. He instantly blows the brains out of the first reaper he sees and sends another to the afterlife with two well placed chest shots.

He spins in a circle, keeping the reapers at bay with well aimed, one hit-one kill shooting. The reapers back off and rally at the gate, preparing for another more coordinated strike.

Shepard uses this opportunity to set the pistol down and reach back into the humvee interior. He retrieves his gas can which he has basically turned into a king-sized Molotov cocktail. Two brave reapers charge from Shepard's blind side. However, their overconfidence gets the better of them and Shepard hears them coming a mile away. He turns, picking up his pistol and firing twice. Thankfully they were the only shots he needed from the now empty pistol.

Shepard produces a Zippo lighter from his pocket and tries to light the gas can. But in his peripheral vision he can see the reapers charging again. His hands shake from the adrenaline and the fear, causing him to drop the lighter. He watches and curses as the lighter falls down the outside of the windshield.

He climbs fully out and reaches down for it. Just as his hand grasps the lighter, another pale muscular hand snags his arm. His gaze drifts up to its owner, the warrior lieutenant.

She smiles at him, "hello John, been awhile."

Shepard snarls and punches her with his bad hand causing even more pain to rush through him. But it has the desired effect and the lieutenant lets go.

Acting quickly, Shepard retrieves the lighter and ignites the gas can. With all the strength he can muster, he tosses it towards the reapers assembled at the gate and duck back inside the safety of his humvee.

The gas can lands with a thud before Harbinger's feet. His eyes widen when he sees Shepard pop back up with a .44 magnum pointed right at him.

Just before Shepard can shoot, a bodily force slams into harbinger and tackles him to safety. Looking over his shoulder, Harbinger trades nods with his savior, Vigil, who ushers his leader towards cover.

Shepard's bullets rip into the gas can and ignite the volatile compounds inside. In a bright ball of flame, dozens of reapers are roasted and burned. Those that are still alive scramble away as the nurses try to douse the flames spreading over their bodies. Using the distraction, Shepard reloads. His weak hand fumbles around with the clip before finally sliding it into the gun.

Shepard re-enters his humvee and reaches to close the hatch. The face of a reaper appears and Shepard gives it the pleasure of having a new breathing hole in the middle of its forehead.

Harbinger watches as the humvee begins speeding towards him as the gate behind the reaper king slowly slides open. The reaper instantly realizes what Shepard has in mind.

"Get him! Get him now!"

The humvee speeds past the flames caused by the gas can and through the gate. Six reapers pounce onto the humvee at it speeds past. Shepard enters the compound and stops again. Harbinger sees the gate as it slowly closes. He tries charging again, but stops and dashes for cover when Shepard reappears brandishing his pistol.

The veteran fires into three of the reapers clinging to the humvee while the others intelligently hang on the sides.

Shepard reloads and continues to fire at the reapers outside of the gate. He can only urge the gate to close faster.

"Come on! Come on!"

He loads the last clip and fires the remaining shots. A couple unlucky reapers fall but Harbinger remains unscathed. Finally the gate shuts and Shepard climbs back inside the humvee. He enters another command into his laptop and the garage door opens.

He drives through and watches as the door closes behind him.

The humvee enters the garage, skidding to a stop before it can crash into the wall. Satisfied and yet surprised his plan had worked, Shepard lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He turns to check on his other passenger, surprised that the blue female is still unconscious.

_Guess I hit her harder than I thought…_

He is about to open his door when he suddenly stops, hearing the sounds of scratching along the outside.

The three surviving reapers descend from the humvee and look around. They glance at one another and devilishly smile.

Shepard changes the laptop screen so that he can now see through the camera on the outside of the humvee. He smirks when he sees the reapers.

"You guys ever been in the boy scouts?" he asks the reapers rhetorically.

He enters in a series of commands on his dashboard console. His finger hovering over the execute interface.

"You know what they always say-"

He push the execute button. The ultraviolet lights of the garage flip on. The reapers hiss and snarl in pain as the light engulfs them. Brandishing a pair of sunglass, Shepard calmly exits the humvee and proceeds to double tap each intruder.

"-always be prepared," Shepard finishes his taunt with a final execution style headshot.

With the reapers dead, Shepard leans into the humvee and returns the garage lamps to normal lighting. He takes off his sunglass and opens the passenger side door. Gracefully he picks up the blue female and heads inside his home.

Shepard carries her downstairs. After struggling to turn on the light switch, he places her on the examination table. He makes sure the female is still alive although her eye and cheek are swollen and bruised. Other than that, he notices that she is severely dehydrated and starved. He can see her eyes dancing behind her eyelids as she utters incomprehensible phrases.

However, before he can do anything for the female, he must take care of himself. He quickly injects a syringe of morphine into his leg to relieve himself from the pain. To keep himself aware he sniffs a vile of Amyl Nitrate. He then pops a couple antibiotics to prevent any infection.

He picks up a scalpel and cuts open his pant leg. He looks over the knife wound on his thigh and cleans it. He grits his teeth but holds in the stinging pain. He wraps it up in a bandage and removes the tourniquet.

"Fuck!" he exclaims as the blood rushes back into his leg causing him even more distress. He contemplates another shot of morphine but he knows he must stay conscious. He slowly removes his boots and checks, cleans and bandages his ankle next. It isn't as bad as his thigh or his wrist but it is still a concern.

Finally is the wrist. It is swollen and throbbing. He feels around the tendons and bones, searching for the afflicted section. Upon finding it, he begins prepping a splint, tape, and more Amyl Nitrate.

Amazingly, he then resets his broken bone. The pain is intense and he almost passes out. But luckily, his vial of Amyl Nitrate is ready and he sniffs it, regaining his senses. He quickly applies the splint and tape. Its shoddy work at best but it gets the job done.

He charges back up the steps, running to his array of monitors. He flips on all his security software. The high-intensity lamps around the house flash on and the land mines read ready and primed.

Outside, the reapers react to the sudden illumination and scurry for nearest darkened refuge.

Harbinger stands firm however, ignoring the burning sensation on his skin. Vigil stands beside him, urging him to move out of the light. Finally Harbinger budges and follows his comrade to safety.

Back in the safety of the horde, Harbinger turns to his two lieutenants.

"How many made it inside?"

"At least half a dozen," replies Vigil.

Harbinger's head hangs.

"And the others? How many others have died tonight?" he asks solemnly.

The warrior lieutenant looks around to the dead, dying, and wounded, "far too many."

Vigil steps forward, pleading, "please… our numbers dwindle and we lose strength. Perhaps it is time to move on… after all, he is just one man."

Harbinger turns from his battered people and backhands Vigil. The young clergyman is knocked to one knee but stands regardless, ignoring the blood seeping from his lip.

"After what he's done? After the blood he's spilled? We must not cease. We, all of us, can never truly transcend. Not if transcendence means allowing Shepard freedom, life…"

Harbinger turns back to his horde. All eyes are on him. As it should be. He can see their morale faltering and their confidence slowly fading away. Nevertheless, Harbinger smiles.

"But you are right about one thing Vigil. Things must change. The day of Shepard's reckoning is at hand but not if it costs us our lives."

He turns to his group.

"Shepard will fall. He will die and this fragment of humanity will forever be destroyed."

XxxxxX

Shepard climbs, struggling, into his sniper's nest, armed to the teeth, ready for the next onslaught. He raises his rifle and peers through the scope. He can see one… two maybe but their backs are to him and they appear to be walking away.

_Have I won_? He thinks to himself as he lowers his rifle.

The look on Shepard's face is almost unreadable. He is either relieved… astonished…

…or disappointed…

Turning around, Shepard head back into his home wondering what the hell he is going to do with that weird looking chick lying in his basement.

_**Author's Note:  
>Thank you or once again tuning in for another exciting chapter. Despite how disappointed I am with Mass Effect 3's ending, I won't let Bioware ruin my love for the series. I will write this and finish it. Consider that a promise.<br>So any thoughts so far? The survivors poll is still open and many of you are getting close to the right answer. Close but not right.  
>To make things easier I'll give youse a hint: try not to think of the obvious ones.<br>That being said I hope you have enjoyed this installment and tune in for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Fifteen!  
>(Poll closes by chapter seventeen so hurry up and guess!)<strong>_


	15. Chapter 15

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

First things first before this next chapter starts…

First of all, I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. To be frank, I managed to come down with writers block and for some reason none of my other writers could help.

Second, I made some changes to the last chapter. Very small changes mind you, nothing that will overall affect the story. I had just gotten done working a twelve hour shift and I was dog tired. For some reason I thought writing would help and the shitty grammatical work was the answer. So I apologize for that.

Thirdly, I must apologize yet again for any wrong word usage. If I use(d) a word that doesn't belong, let me know what it is so I can correct that.

So without further interruption, I give you the next chapter.

I do not own Bioware or Mass Effect.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco CA  
>March 8<strong>**th**** 2032**

"What the fuck are you?"

Shepard stood over his medical equipment, starring both at the microscope and the blue female perplexed. When he had taken her blood to see if she was indeed a new reaper thrall, he half expected to find some trace of Archer's Viragene. He did of course, but what he found next to that was what had him speechless.

He had managed to break through the reaper's line relatively unscathed; a feat that, in his heart, he did not think was possible. But he did it and Shepard wasn't going to question his luck.

After watching the reapers trot away in defeat, Shepard had remained vigilant for an extra half an hour, just in case Harbinger was trying to trick him into a lull of safety. Thankfully this wasn't the case.

Shepard wasn't going to bullshit himself. He knew that in his present condition, he probably would not survive another assault. Luckily, after memorizing the reapers patterns for nearly a decade, Shepard would have a break the next day, giving his wounds some time to heal.

After stowing away his weapons for safe keepings, he began to examine the blue female lying unconscious in his medical facility. For a moment he just stood there, looking at her.

She had absolutely zero hair on her body. Her skin felt smooth at the touch, something that her head tendrils held in similar regard. He also took notice of her clothing. Shepard wouldn't say he sat down every morning reading the latest issue of Us Weekly and jotted down notes on the recent fashion news, but being surrounded by women for most of his life, things tended to rub off on him. As a result he could state, with a varying degree of accuracy that the clothing the female wore was not something one would pick up at the mall.

Another thing of note was the device attached to her left forearm. Shepard tried to remove it but in the end could not. He wondered slightly what it was but decided that he had more important things to worry about.

When he finally went and drew some of the female's blood, he would admit that he was surprised to find it the color blue. That caused his eyebrows to shoot up. Even the reapers bled red along with most animal life on the planet.

_Okay_, he thought to himself, _it just must be another offset of the mutation_.

Yeah that seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation… at the time. But when he put a small drop under a microscope, he instantly jumped backwards, nearly crashing into his medical supplies.

Her blood… it wasn't human. It was similar… but definitely not human. He had been given a crash course by one of the genetics teachers at the university after Archer came out with his 'miracle cure'. Now that knowledge was flooding back to him.

So Shepard stands there, unsure of what to do. She's clearly not human. So by that definition she must be…

"No," Shepard says, shaking his head, "no way in hell."

If what the evidence sitting in front of him is true… then Shepard had made contact with an extraterrestrial life form… and an intelligent one at that.

Shepard turns back to the microscope, both praying that he's just crazy and praying that he isn't. Aren't contradictions fun?

XxxxxX

Liara sits before a long circular table, her eyes staring at the plate of food before her. Both her hands are folded on her lap, her expression clearly betraying how appetizing the entrée is.

"Liara, eat your food," a familiar voice commands.

Liara looks up, locking eyes with her mother, Benezia.

"I don't want to, it looks distasteful," she replied, slightly realizing that her voice is higher than normal.

"Liara," Benezia repeated, taking hold of her scolding tone, "eat, now. I'm not going to be around forever and you must learn to take care of yourself."

"No," Liara remains defiant, "I'm still just a kid."

"It was your fault you know," Benezia says smiling vindictively, "why your father left. You were a mistake. My one chance at happiness and you ruined it!"

"Mother I…"

Liara looks back down at her plate, feeling like she is on the verge of tears. When she opens them, she gasps when she sees Kirahee's split open skull. Against all logic, the decapitated skull's mouth begins to move and words form.

"You left me to die."

Liara was taken aback as she hastily stood from her seat, the chair she had been sitting on skidding across the floor.

"I… I…"

Looking back up to her mother, she sees Benezia is now replaced with the other members of her expedition. A few among them stand out; Shiala, Nihlus, Tali, Mordin, Saren, Wrex and Garrus.

Shiala points an accusing finger at her, "We were supposed to be friends, sisters! How could you leave me to those things?"

"You're just a coward," Garrus interrupts before Liara can answer, "and you had no place coming on this mission."

"You deserved to be eaten," Wrex bellows, "not me or my brother!"

"Please, let me-" Liara tries to say before she realizes Nihlus is standing over her.

"You should have gotten help. You should have stayed with me."

Liara closes he eyes, covering her ears as she sinks to her knees.

"Stop… please… why goddess why?"

XxxxxX

Almost as if awakening from a trance, Liara's eyes flutter open. Instantly she regrets the action. Half her face feels like she just got head butted by a krogan then slapped with a singularity.

Her hand moves to feel her afflicted region, her eyes still shut. Tentatively she pokes at the spot that is causing the most distress. She softly sighs and tries to sit upright. She does and begins to feel dizzy.

When she finally opens her eyes, she is shocked to find herself in unfamiliar surroundings. Looking around she can see beige colored walls, a white sheet, a flight of stairs, a creature standing over some console, a tray with a discarded-

Liara's head snaps over to the creature. Her body begins to shake in fear and she instantly begins back up. That is until she falls off of the table she lying on. Her arms flail in a vain attempt to grasp onto something that will prevent her inevitable tumble but she grasps only air. One of her arms actually manages to smack a tray on the way down. The sudden noise causes the creature to turn around, a confused expression on its face.

Both freeze momentarily, their eyes lock for the briefest of seconds before each snap into action; the creature going for some metallic object nearby and Liara herself stretching out her arm.

With a feeling of satisfaction she watches as a force of biotic power engulfs the creature. Confused, the creature looks around as it slowly levitates, gravity betraying it.

Liara stands, her arm still outwards, controlling the biotic field keeping the creature suspended.

She is about to call on her powers once again and finish him off but she stops suddenly, recognizing the long tufts of fur on and around its head. She sees his blue eyes that subtly remind her of Saren. She delves into the deepest parts of her memory, trying to recall the last time she had last laid sight on them.

She nearly gasps when she realizes that this is the same creature she found before she lost consciousness. Slowly itching her way towards it, she reaches out and pokes it. Despite being unable to touch the ground, the creature slaps her hand away with its own.

"That's the shit that got you knocked out before, I'd advise against repeating past mistakes."

Liara instantly jumps back. It talked. Whatever this creature was, it spoke to her. Albeit she couldn't understand a word it said, but nevertheless it talked. If it talked then that meant it was intelligent. If it was intelligent, maybe it could help her.

_Careful Liara_, her own brain scolded her, _remember where you are_. _Remember what that thing is._

Liara nods in agreement to her inner monologue. Looking around for anything that she could use to defend herself, she spots the metallic object that the creature was going for before she lifted it off the ground. Picking it up, she examines it for a moment. It is basically the same shape as the pistol Nihlus gave her, design wise that is. Going by logic she chalks it up to being a handgun of sorts and aims it at the suspended creature. Unsurprisingly she couldn't find the mini mass effect core found in all weapon over the galaxy.

The two stood, or floated depending on perspective, for a minute of two. Liara did not really think this far ahead. She was so confused when she woke that she wasn't able to gather her bearings.

Looking around in much more detail, Liara begins taking mental notes of her surroundings. Going by the equipment scattered around and the layout, she is willing to bet that she is in some medical facility of some kind.

"Uh… haven't forgotten about me have you?" the creature spoke again.

Liara's head darts back to her captive. Curiosity begins to overwhelm her. Could this be one of the planet's indigenous life-forms? Does it have relations to the creature that attacked her and her team?

"Speak again," Liara asks trying to sound authoritative.

This time it is the creature's turn to look confused. His gaze drops to the floor as its eyes dart back and forth in complicated thought. After a few seconds its gaze drifts slowly back to Liara. She can see a slight smirk growing on its face.

"You have no idea what I'm saying do you?"

Liara's silence seems to be all that the creature needs for a confirmation.

"Ha!" the creature laughed, "you know, right now I should be more worried about the fact that I'm fucking floating in mid air right now but to be honest… I find this absolutely thrilling!"

Liara watches confused as the creature begins laughing. It continues to speak, but Liara has no way to understand it. Unless…

No, not an option. The joining is far too dangerous. Yes, she can do it, but there is a reason why Matriarchs are the only ones to use it to learn new languages. It takes a certain amount of ability and skill to perform it right. If used by an untrained person such as Liara, the melding could intertwine their consciousnesses causing both parties to experience it rather than just the asari performing the act.

But then again… it isn't like she has a vast array of options. The only other option would be to head to the crash site, grab a translator and hope it works. But there were two things wrong with that. The first is that the crash site, the last time she was there, was crawling with those things. Liara had no desire to be butchered and decides that by keeping the same amount of blood in her body as long as possible did wonders for her overall goal of not catching a bad case of death. The second issue was that, not only did she have no idea where she was, but that the translator could harm the creature if its brainwave activity isn't high enough. Liara didn't feel like explaining it to herself but she knew that the outcome resulted in goo-ifying the wearer's brain.

So it seems like melding was the only solution if she ever wants to properly communicate with the creature before her who continues to talk and laugh at the same time.

"I swear, I always thought Kaiden was naïve for always talking about life out there. My god, he'd never let me down for it if he was here."

It seems that whatever the creature is discussing with itself, it is more important than keeping an eye on Liara who begins to slowly approach it.

She sets the object down onto the table she woke up on, causing the creature to finally stop laughing and gaze over at he. She reaches out with her now free hand and softly touches the creatures head.

With her eyes closed she feels the melding about to begin. Unfamiliar sensations begin to flow through her. Emotions, thoughts, words… language. She had it.

But before she can let go, she feels herself become more drawn in. Due to her inexperience with the melding she is unable to release her hold on the creature's mind.

Just before the melding fully grips her, he lids snap open to reveal all black irises.

"Forgive me," she softly utters as the melding fully encompasses them both.

XxxxxX

Liara finds herself standing in a wide open space. Everything is black and darkness is everywhere. Looking around she can not see where the horizon begins and ends, the sky above her, nor the ground she is standing on. Everything seems to be mashed together causing a distorted feeling to come over her.

"My god…they're fire bombing the city!"

Her gaze snaps over to the direction the voice came from. She sees standing before her a creature, bipedal, covered in some sort of full body armor.

She watches as the form reaches up to the helmet that covers its face. After a series of clasps the creature removes its helmet and Liara gazes upon a familiar looking face although the fur that covered the lower half of its face is now gone.

_Shepard_… a voice inside her mind tells her… _human_.

The creature, Shepard, continues to stare off into the distance. Liara follows his gaze, watching the area change before her.

What was once pure darkness is now replaced with a lush forest. Looking around, Liara can she that they are standing at the very edge, staring at a city as it burns below them.

"I need you to do me a favor," she hears a voice say.

Shepard glances right at her, locking eyes.

"You know I can't do that," is his response.

Liara notices something glimmer in the light caused by the fires below. Looking down in Shepard's hand she sees the same metallic object that he had tried to threaten her with.

_Pistol_… _handgun_… _fires high velocity lead by use of burning a confined propellant_…

Liara feels dizzy with all the information she is receiving. She feels like an encyclopedia is being downloaded directly into her brain.

"It's been an honor sir," she hears Shepard say.

Looking back to him, she can see him pointing the handgun directly at her. Unable to move she watches as he fires.

Her eyes close instantly. When she opens them she finds the scenery change once again.

Now she is standing in an enclosed room. Furniture is thrown haphazardly around. Windows have been boarded up as well as the door. Random objects have been thrown around without care. Turing on her heel, she spots Shepard sitting behind a table that has been turned on its side.

Shepard himself is sitting in a chair, his head wobbling slightly, his eyes half closed. In his hands is a clear glass bottle with some dark liquid sloshing around in it.

_Alcohol… Inebriation…_

She watches Shepard take a swing before letting the now empty bottle drop to the floor. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small rectangular box. Opening it, Liara can see several cylindrical white sticks arranged inside. Shepard grasps one and places it on his lips.

_Tobacco_…

He lights the opposite end and Liara sees a plume of smoke emanate from his mouth. She watches him take several drags before a series of loud banging interrupts them both.

Frightened, Liara backs up behind Shepard's form. She watches with fear as he barley acknowledges the banging and howling. She knows that sound. It was the same sounds that those creatures that attacked the team made.

Finally Shepard makes a move. Calmly he grabs something off to the side. Liara recognizes it as the firearm she discovered resting on the vehicle before she was knocked out.

Shepard inserts a clip and pulls back the blot, chambering a round. He places the barrel onto the table's side and takes aim.

Seconds later the door is busted down. Several of the same pale creatures that she has come to be associate with, pile in. Liara notes with interest that these look more muscular than the ones that had attacked the crash site and killed her team. They seem to have more control.

She watches, perplexed as they don't attack and neither does Shepard. They wait as another calmly strolls in. This creature seems much different than Shepard in body structure but at the same time is similar to Liara.

_Female_… _woman_…

The woman, dressed in an all white nightgown, strolls in, eyes locked firmly on Shepard whose rifle lowers slightly.

She stretches her arms out at him, baring her teeth, "John…."

She hears something akin to a whimper emanate from Shepard before he composes himself.

"God forgive me…"

Liara's vision fades once again simultaneously with a gunshot.

When Liara opens her eyes, she finds herself once again in new surroundings. This time, it is much more disturbing.

She is surrounded by dead bodies. Some are wrapped in some all black tarp. Others, the majority, are just lying about, twisted at odd angles.

Liara puts a hand to her mouth to stop herself from vomiting but she cannot escape the smell. Before she can do anything else another body falls before her.

Looking up she can see that she is in some sort of pit, the top far too high for her to climb out. She looks down at the newly discarded body. Her eyes widen in horror when she realizes that it is a child. A very young female child. Her dead eyes share that of Shepard's blue ones and she comes to a horrifying realization.

But before she can act upon it, voice from above her grasp her attention. Standing above her, with a torch in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other, is Shepard. His eyes are red and puffy; he's been weeping.

"I love you Ellie," he says with a shaky voice.

Liara screams as he throws the torch at her. The flames lick every part of her body as they spread outwards. All she can do is scream, a gesture no longer afforded to the dead around her.

XxxxxX

The force of the ending of the meld causes Liara to back up several steps, almost as if she were physically pushed. With a thud, Shepard falls from her now absent biotic field and lands with an audible, "oooff!"

A splitting headache tears through her skull. With one hand she cradles her head which feels like it just took on extra weight.

Before she can fully recover, she feels herself be picked up and slammed into the wall.

Looking down she can see Shepard holding her up by the collar of her shirt. An angry, confused, and saddened expression is etched across his face.

"What the hell did you just do to me?"

Liara is too scared to answer.

"Why? Why would you make me relive that!" he all but shouts at her.

Liara begins to fear for her own life but her unease dissipates when she sees a tear roll down Shepard's cheek.

"I'm... sorry… if you suffered. But that is what happens with the melding," she tries to explain.

She sees Shepard's face twitch slightly, replacing every other emotion with confusion.

"How… how is that I can understand you now? And what the fuck is a melding?" he demands.

Liara struggles to find the right words. This new language is… difficult to learn, especially on the fly. Nevertheless, Liara does her best to explain.

"I joined my consciousness with yours, the melding, it is a trait my people carry. It was the only way and is the only reason I can now communicate with you," Liara says slowly with a broken accent.

Shepard's gaze drifts off as he analyzes this new information. He turns back to her and nods.

"Alright, say for second I believe you… what are you exactly? Are you an alien?"

Liara seems somewhat at odds with that question but answers anyway, "To you yes, I'm alien. However, the opposite is the same to me. To me, you're the alien."

Shepard finally lets her go and Liara slides to the ground. For a moment she feels like she isn't able to stand but ignores her throbbing head and completes her rise. She watches as Shepard slowly backs up, his had coming to rest on his chin. Not before long, a smirk etches across his mouth. Then he starts to laugh.

"Excuse me, but I do not seem to find the humor in this situation," Liara says trying to get back on topic.

But Shepard continues to laugh. Soon he was nearly bent over the table, laughing uncontrollably.

"What is so funny?" Liara demands.

"Its… just… the goddamn irony!"

Liara is confused more than she was before.

"Irony? I don't know…" she is not familiar with the word.

Eventually Shepard calms down enough for him to be able to explain himself.

"Do you realize how long my people searched for intelligent life out there? And of course only after we're wiped out do you decide to show up."

Shepard whipped away a laughter tear from his eye and let out a deep breath.

"Goddamn…now… now you show up…" he says with a more serious tone as he spaces out.

He shakes his head from his thoughts, "Never mind then, it doesn't matter."

He begins to head towards the stairs, still somewhat lost in thought. Before even reaching the first step, he turns to address her.

"You hungry?"

_**Author's Note  
>So I finally got here. I hope you have had a good ride so far. I'm sorry about the timeframe updates; it's just my life has gotten ridiculously busy lately.<strong>_

_**Next chapter Liara is going to get some answers and Shepard is going to have some questions of his own. The Reapers, however, have a trick up their sleeve.**_

_**Oh, some one made a comment on how Liara knows what a banana is. My only answer to that is… um… I… did you hear about the Mass Effect 3 Extended Cut coming out this summer? Personally I'm a supporter of the Indoctrination Theory. I'm not sold 100 percent but there's too much evidence pointing at it to ignore it. I don't think that is what Bioware is planning to do though which makes me sad. EA is now officially on my shit list and deserved to be the worst company in America.**_

_**Well, in regards to video games, yes they are. And I hope they know what a bunch of jack asses they are.**_

_**Another thing, I decided to re-write my Section 8 story. Although it stars Ashley and a Male Shepard, both of which seem to be surprisingly unpopular on this site, I believe it to be a very good story with plenty of twists and turns that I hope every one finds interesting. If you aren't scratching your head or foaming at the mouth by the end, I didn't do my job. I am also writing my other ME story FOR BLOOD, DUTY, AND HONOR as well as my Fallout fic which remains untitled. So make sure you look out for them. I will announce their start during this story though.**_

_**Tune in next time for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Sixteen!**_


	16. Chapter 16

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

Someone pointed out a huge issue with this story: the constant and random changes from past to present tense. To be honest, that is just one huge fuck up on my part. I'm so used to writing in the past tense that when I need to write in the present it gets all jumbled up. I'll do my best to avoid it in the future and I apologize.

The poll for the characters is over. Someone, and I cant say who (please refrain from boasting until your character appears or the survivors chapter is posted because that will just plain ruin the whole thing,) guessed it right down to the T.

Onwards!

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Shepard Residence<br>March 8****th**** 2032**

Awkwardness is a difficult thing to overcome. To conquer it, one may use a variety of verbal and or non-verbal methods.

Non-verbal methods include touch, or just generally enjoying the other person's presence. An unspoken understanding between two people is quite a sight to behold, especially among lovers or really close friends.

Spoken methods are just that; spoken. It includes what some people call small talk, just discussing random topics, and figuring out what one has in common with another.

But when both those options are not available, the atmosphere between two subjects can be quite tense and unbearable. To counter those negative emotions, people tend to avoid eye contact, daydream, or just watch their surroundings with inattentive eyes.

So when Shepard and Liara sat down at the former lone survivor's table to share the first known meal between human and extraterrestrial, awkwardness was ever present.

Both, mainly Liara, wanted to ask the other questions ranging from, what are your people like, what sort of culture you had, what happened here, and so on. All Liara had asked so far was what type of DNA Shepard had.

Confused, Shepard answered Levo based. Lira thanked him and hungrily devoured her meal. When she had finished she had realized that Shepard had barley touched his so far; only taking small bites and small sips of water.

She found herself just watching him… watching him eat. It would be a very weird thing for an outsider to witness but Liara's curiosity was peaking past her threshold.

In all her archeological career she had only uncovered the _remains_ of lost civilizations. Most of her theories were just that; theories. She could only speculate what the people of those ruins were like.

But to have a living member of one of those species sitting before her was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Um…"

Her attempt at conversation was preemptively halted by just a single glance from the human before her. He paused mid-chew, and then resumed finishing what was in his mouth.

She waited for him to finish, which he noticed and therefore decided, for the sake of amusement, to drag out his eating process out longer than usual.

When he finally swallowed, Liara made to speak again but instead of regarding her or allowing her to talk, Shepard picked up his glass of water and audibly sipped it.

He set it down, wiped in mouth, set down his silverware and finally addressed Liara for the first time since the basement.

"What?"

"I was wondering," Liara began softly, "if you can tell me about your people. As an archeologist I-"

"No," was the short direct answer she received.

It took Liara a few moments to properly understand him, "What?"

"No," he repeated.

"Why not?"

Shepard cleared his throat, "how could I describe an entire population of people? Should I describe how egotistical, fat, and intellectually challanged Americans are? Or how about the pompous English? Or, better yet, the overly polite Canadians? What about the Chinese and their slanty eyes? Maybe the Russians and their shitty weather and vodka? So please tell me Miss Alien, how can I describe a completely diverse people that all have a different way of thinking and doing things?"

"I have a name," Liara said, insulted.

"Good for you," Shepard said dismissively as he went back to eating.

Liara watched him again, getting more and more infuriated. Finally as if he could sense the daggers she was starring into him, Shepard sighed and spoke again.

"What now?"

"I have another question," Liara stated firmly.

"Nope, my turn," Shepard interrupted before Liara could continue, "We'll go tit-for-tat. I'll ask a question, then you, then me, and so on."

Liara was silent for a minute before uttering, "fine."

"Why are you here?"

Liara could see that question coming a mile away.

"I was part of a research team," she admitted.

Shepard waited for her to continue, "go on."

"I answered your question now answer mine."

"You didn't answer my question," Shepard shot back, "you just told me your job, that's it."

Liara paused, "Alright then. I and a small team were sent here to study the ruins of this city."

Shepard smiled sarcastically, "you see, that wasn't so hard. My turn."

Liara nodded, allowing him to continue.

"What are you called?"

"My name is Liara-"

"Not your name," Shepard interjected, "your species."

"Asari. What's that fur on top of you head for?"

"Its called hair. Not fur and its used for warmth by mammals. The hair on my eyes," Shepard said pointing to his eyelashes, "is for protection."

"From what?"

"Not your turn," Shepard replied.

Liara sighed, "I grow tired of these games."

"Why? I'm having fun. This is the mot conversation I've had in almost ten years."

_That_ got Liara's attention.

"Ten years? Is that how long you've been here?"

Shepard instantly clamed up. The joking manner he had just displayed moments ago was gone. A mental shield was up now preventing Liara from reading anything besides Shepard's dismissive gesture.

"You've been here… cooped up fighting those… things?"

Shepard instantly got defensive, "they're not things; they're reapers."

"Reaper?" asked Liara.

Shepard audibly sighed and rose from the table. He motioned for Liara to follow him and she did, allowing Shepard to herd her into what he called a living room.

He pointed at the couch that faced a flat, black, square box.

"Sit," he ordered.

Liara did as instructed. Like an obsessed librarian, Shepard searches through a vast assortment of DVDs and video tapes. Liara sits silently like a moviegoer waiting for a show.

Shepard selects the right one and inserts it into a player. Just before it starts, he pushes pauses and turns towards Liara.

"After I left the military, do you know what I did?" he asked rhetorically, "I taught history. My father always told me that those who fail to acknowledge history are doomed to repeat it. I was young when he told me and I guess it just stuck."

"Under that premise," he continued, "I kept all this as a record. A document of truth. It took me awhile but I did it. Someday it might help..."

He paused for a moment in thought.

"It might help those after. Someone… someone in the future… they can see. They can learn how all this happened."

He finishes his narration and pushes play.

XxxxxX

Liara is presented to what looks to be a hand-held recording behind a plain of two-way glass. Inside of what looks to be a padded cell is a lone male. He looks directly at the camera, eyes filled with hatred and disgust. He is naked save for a pair of plain boxer shorts. His skin is translucent and sweaty. His eyes have sunken back and he has lost some of his hair.

He seems to be extremely agitated. He paces, no, stalks, around his cell. Occasionally he pounds his fists into the glass or just head butts it.

"David?" a voice calls out.

The owner, Archer, sounds distraught. He is both sorrowful and horrified at what has happened to his brother.

David responds by slamming bodily into the glass, sending a web of cracks across the impact point.

"David!" Archer exclaims in surprise. He quickly adopts an almost parent-like tone, "David, why don't you try to calm down?"

David punches the glass causes the web of cracks to grow, pulling away a blooding hand.

"Calm! You want me to be fucking calm? Go fuck yourself Gavin!" the deteriorating David shouts.

"David…" Archer says, almost pleading.

"Give it to me!" David orders.

Over the speakers of the TV, Liara can hear a tray being slid into the cell. David Archer retrieves it hungrily and departs for the furthermost corner of the cell. Liara can see a plastic bag filled with red blood and a hypodermic needle.

"David, please use the syringe this time," Archer begged of his younger sibling.

David annoyingly tosses the needle away and rips open the bag. He drinks. Every drop suckled down into his open mouth. He practically licks the bag clean. With his mouth smeared in crimson, he approaches the glass placidly.

"You don't understand brother… it's the taste… the flavor," he utters like a druggie getting a much needed high, "I can feel it… inside me," he laughs, "God, its beautiful!"

The blood races through his veins, made visible due to his skin's translucency. His muscles grow in size; his eyes lose their former color and retain what would soon be synonymous with the blue-grey eyes of the Reapers. He transforms, ascends, from his previous human form.

Now though…

David recovers and stares right into Archer's frightful eyes.

"You made me this way brother. You made me. You are the past. I am the future. Live with it."

XxxxxX

The tape suddenly stopped as Shepard switched in a new one. For the first time, Liara noticed that she is sitting on the very edge of her seat. For the first time, she was witnessing the fall of an empire, not just speculating it.

"Who was that?" Liara asked.

"Harbinger," Shepard utters without emotion.

The new tape starts immediately.

XxxxxX

Instantly, an anchor appears in the middle of what was once a live broadcast.

"…A disturbing occurrence here at Berkeley. Our own Khalisah Al Jilani is on the scene."

The feed switches to a young woman with chin length dark hair and light brown skin. She wears a simple black suit, the top four buttons of her undershirt remain open, unsubtly exposing her cleavage.

Behind her, hoards of reporters, fireman, and police officers buzz about in front of the Archer Center for Genetic Research.

She pauses for a moment, waiting for her cue. Once she has it, she raises a microphone to her mouth and begins.

"Three doctors and two security guards were murdered as ten patients fled from the Archer Center for Genetic Research. No news yet as to the nature of the work being done here but…"

Behind her, the cameraman notices Doctor Archer exit the center, escorted by two policemen. The cameraman brings this to Khalisah's attention although what is actually said is unheard. She immediately bolts towards him, the camera bobbing up and down as its operator follows.

"Doctor Archer! Doctor Archer! Can you tell us why the CDC was alerted? Why are the National Guard and the United Nation's N7s being called to San Francisco? Is there a public danger?"

Archer doesn't respond. He looks shell-shocked. His left eye is bruised and his lip is cut, allowing blood to flow down his chin.

XxxxxX

Once again Shepard switches the tapes.

"He was responsible?" asked Liara

"Yeah…it started out trying to find a cure for his brother David," Shepard noticed the confused expression and clarified, "he had autism, stage four, it's a mental disease. Somehow it evolved into this. Like he said, once you tackle blood, you pretty much can do anything."

"What happened to him?"

Shepard pauses, debating a silent argument within his mind.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes, please."

Shepard sighed, "very well," he said as he inserted the next record.

XxxxxX

This time, Archer sits alone in his office. He is a shell of his former self, a wreck. His goatee, which is normally trimmed with the utmost care, is stringy and out of order. Along his jaw and cheeks are signs of a five-o'clock shadow. His pristine white lab coat is covered in blood and dirt stains. From head to toe he is covered in water. He musters up whatever pride and dignity he has left and sits up straight, clearing his throat. In his hands are several computer printouts.

In the background, a never ending alarm klaxon blares. In the distance there are gunshots that come not from the outside but within.

"The latest estimates have the Reaper Viragene spreading across the country in three days. By the time it hits New York, ninety eight percent of San Francisco will be infected. The fighting in the streets… the bloodshed… I fear it's only a _harbinger_ of the real fight to come," Archer gags, holding back his feeling of nausea, "We have determined, well Shepard actually, that exposure to sunlight, plasma starvation, oxygen deprivation, massive blood loss, and… how did Anderson put it?… oh yes, a fuck-ton of bullets, are the most lethal effective ways of dealing with those… infected. Even so, cremation is the sole guarantee that reanimation does not occur."

When Archer stops speaking, Liara can hear that the sounds of gunfire have subsided. The Klaxon too has quieted. What replaced them made a shiver crawl up Liara's spine.

**Arch-er!**

**Arch-er!**

**Arch-er!**

It sounded evil, malicious, and clear in its intent of the man whose name is chanted. Judging from the way Shepard's hands suddenly began to shake, she assumed that he underwent and continues to go through something similar.

Archer wipes some moisture from his eyes before continuing.

"Yes. Well. My latest blood tests reveal that I am in stage two of the disease. Already my mind is beginning to deteriorate into fantasies of savagery. I feel the desire to feed but I can't bear the thought of it. Nor can I bear the thought of David…. My brother… ripping me open, gutting me… feasting on…"

He's unable to continue. He pulls out a lighter from his pocket and glances back at an empty gas can. He stares into the ignited flame for a moment, eyes lost in memories of happier times.

"The square root of 906.01 is 30.1. What I did to David… to mankind… is unethical. But I make no apologies for doing what needed to be done. My only regret is the way it turned out. It all seemed harmless."

He makes eye contact with the camera, "God forgive me."

Archer drops the lighter and the flames dance across his body instantly.

XxxxxX

Liara winced at the sight of the flames and remembere that not half an hour ago, the same flames were consuming her, albeit in her mind, but she could feel their heat as if it was real.

"He… he killed himself?" Liara asked nearly speechless.

"Yeah," Shepard answered.

"Why?"

"You saw why."

"Yes I saw," Liara agreed, "but I don't understand."

Shepard sighed as if he were back in class trying to educate one of his students, "When the virus hits you, you lose everything. Everything that made you who you are. You die and the virus brings you back. Those whose brains cannot cope become like the ferals."

Liara still didn't quite understand but Shepard ignored her and popped in another tape.

XxxxxX

This time, a man appears. He is rather pudgy and is blue uniform reflects his pear like body. The headline calls him the chief of police, Captain Armando Bailey. Behind him are blown up photos of the Archer Ten, those who had fled from the facility Liara saw in one of Shepard's earlier tapes.

"These men and women are considered extremely dangerous. In just forty eight hours they have killed over twenty people including four police officers."

A reporter stands with his hand raised, "Chief, we have no clear answer on this… are these people carrying some kind of virus? We have a right to know."

"For that answer, I'm going to turn it over to Doctor Amanda Kenson of the Center for Disease Control."

A woman in her late fifties steps up to the microphone.

"Upon the CDC's review of Dr. Archer's research, Washington has given us the authority to declare this a Code Red situation. Each of the Archer Ten are carrying a potentially lethal virus-type agent."

In response shouts and cries of questioning erupt from the assembled press. Even Bailey looks shaken.

"Is this contagious?"

"What are the symptoms?"

"What is the government planning to do?"

Kenson raises her hands to quell the audience, "Listen, we're still trying to gain a handle on this ourselves. The Berkeley campus and surrounding area is under quarantine. As of this moment there are no plans to implement such a quarantine on the city itself."

The resulting lines of questions were interrupted when Shepard swaps out the tape.

"No, but you should have," he utters quietly.

XxxxxX

Shepard turned back to Liara who resumes her own questions.

"They didn't do anything?" she asked disbelieving.

"Shepard shook his head, "you don't know what it was like. The fear… the panic."

Once again he pushes in one of his extensive records.

XxxxxX

The screen changes to the Governor of California. The man looks completely distraught. He stands at a podium, reading a statement.

"…Just spoken to the president. Although it grieves me to do so, for the safety of our citizens, the National Guard, The United Nation's N7s, and several contingents of the US Army have declared a state of martial law in the state of California. I am told that such considerations are being discussed in the states of Nevada, Arizona, Utah, and Oregon. Under the statues of martial law and in accordance with the extreme circumstances considering this situation, all personally owned firearms will be confiscated by the military. Also a mandatory curfew, for all citizens, will be instated. The curfew will start at sunset and continue until sunrise the next day. Anyone on the streets during this period will be considered dangerous. A shoot-to-kill order has been issued. Anyone with symptoms of the virus are to institute themselves into the nearest medical facility for treatment. If a child is symptomatic, the parent or parents will be held responsible. Noncompliance in this request is a punishable offense. Punishable by death. If you see a dead body, please, do not go near. Call the 800 number at the bottom of your screen and a disposal unit will be alerted."

The governor stops and sighs.

"God have mercy on us all."

XxxxxX

Shepard stopped the tape and turned to Liara.

"In six days the world turned upside down. San Francisco became a warzone. Do you know what people do when you tell them that they have no rights? That an individual is powerless? They fight. It was ludicrous to think mankind would just roll over and comply. I saw my neighbors and friends, people I've known for years, become bloodthirsty savages. Infected, uninfected, it didn't matter. We were all driven mad. The survival instinct went ballistic. Food, guns, blood, it all became priceless; worth killing for. Those who had became targets of the had nots. A city of over five million… within two weeks half were dead. A month later, the people like me, the immunes, were all that was left. But we didn't band together. There was no unity. It was every man for himself. Trust had been abolished. By the end of the year it was just me."

"How did… how did you do it?" asked Liara.

"I remained calm. That's the greatest secret of survival. When everyone around you is loosing their minds… relax."

The previous night played across her inner eye. People being ripped to pieces around her.

"Don't you… don't you wish that you died, with everyone else?"

Shepard's head lowered, "every day," he said softly.

A thought suddenly dawned on Liara.

"What about the people I came with. When I fled some were still fighting…. What did you call them...? Ferals?"

"Depends. Were they out at night?"

"Yes."

Shepard shrugged, "then they're dead."

Liara stood, angered by Shepard just dismissing people like Tali, Garrus, Mordin, Wrex, Shiala, and the SpecTres away in such a blunt way. There is no way they could all be dead.

"You lie, they can't all be dead!"

"They are. You saw it yourself Liara. You can't fight the Reapers. All you can do is just hold on."

"Can we at least look for them?"

"No," was the sharp answer she received, "let me give you some advice. One: never go out at night, unless you have no choice. Two: if you find yourself out at night alone, find shelter until morning. Three: never go underground, unless you have no choice. You do whatever you need to, to survive. Got it?"

Liara sat back on the sofa, defeated. She nodded. Shepard makes to leave.

"Good, come on, you should sleep."

Liara begrudgingly followed. They head into a hallway and passed a very intimidating looking door and then took a left.

"You can sleep in my room. I don't use it so you can have some privacy."

He turned when he realized Liara wasn't following him anymore. She stood before a plain wooden door with a pink unicorn hanging from a hook towards the top. Her hand reached for the handle.

"What's in here?"

Before her hand can rest upon the circular handle, Shepard's own snapped out and grabbed her wrist.

"Don't go in there," he ordered darkly.

"Why, what's in there?"

"None of you goddamn business. I've played the good host now be a good guest and we'll do fine."

Liara winced as he let her go revealing a bruise ringed around her wrist. She followed him again and glanced nervously at the motion camera that followed her every movement.

Shepard led her into his master bedroom and allowed her to step in.

"Bathroom's to the right and the bed's right there. In the morning you can go over more of my records and tapes. But for now, sleep."

Before he could close the door, Liara spoke.

"Shepard… thank you, for saving me and opening up your home."

"Sure," he said and left the room.

Shepard left and headed into his safe room. Due to his injures he couldn't get into his normal, meditative, posture. So he just sat himself against the wall, removed his concealed handgun from his back and closed his eyes.

_**Author's note  
>I hope everyone is still there and enjoyed this chapter. I meant to post this a while ago actually, but work just got so busy I could never find the time.<strong>_

_**Any question, comments or concerns, let me know and stay tuned for Chapter Seventeen of Mass Effect Infection!**_


	17. Chapter 17

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Shepard Residence<br>March 9th 2032**

When the sun finally rose the next morning, Shepard lazily opened the shutter to his security room. He had barley slept last night and the bags under his eyes felt like they weighed twenty tons. Every time his eyes would close, his wounds would ache and it would jolt him back to full consciousness.

The previous night played over his mind like a record; getting caught in his own trap, smashing his head in process, accidently stabbing himself in the thigh and breaking his wrist. Add to that those feral dogs did a number as well. Suffice to say, Shepard was in a constant state of pain.

But he knew that his duties would wait for no master and that certain things around the house needed to get done.

Shepard sighed and turned away from the shutter, closing it before he made for the hallway. It was then he remembered the blue alien from the night before and went to check on her. Being as stealthy as he could he slowly opened the door to the master bedroom.

He was surprised to find Liara sitting upright and staring out her own shutter and onto the compound outside. Shepard couldn't see what she was staring at so he just assumed that she was lost in thought.

As he made to close the door, he was a bit louder than intended. Liara greeted him without turning.

"Good morning Shepard," she said softly.

"Morning," was his simple response.

"I see you didn't sleep that well either."

"Nope."

Liara simply nodded. In all honesty she tried to catch some sleep, but every time she closed her eyes she felt as if she were about to be attacked. The paranoia was insufferable and eventually she decided to stay awake. That however, came with a price. With next to nothing to do, or anyone to talk to, all she could do was think. And all she thought about was her first night on the planet.

She couldn't help but blame herself. If she stayed, instead of running like she had, maybe one or two of her friends would be with her now. She could have saved somone. The fact of not knowing whether or not everyone was dead was eating away at her.

"Want some breakfast?" Shepard asked, breaking her from her thought.

Shepard's voice made her jump slightly but she turned, gave him a half-hearted nod, and rose to follow him out of the bedroom. At the last second, she stopped.

"Shepard, I know it's early but I have a couple questions."

Shepard, with his back to her, mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

He turned to her, "big questions or small ones?"

"Small… I think," Liara answered.

Shepard dropped his gaze for a moment in contemplation before nodding, "Very well, ask."

Liara slowly approached the desk a few feet away from the bed. It was adorned with countless pictures, badges, and medals. It was one of the few things that kept her mind occupied and her curiosity was peeking.

Liara reached out for the one with three soldiers smoking cigars and resting upon some hulking metal ruin. Instead of grabbing it, as to not repeat last night mistake, she pointed.

"What is this of?"

Shepard, eyes fixed on the picture, approached. He picked it up, sweeping a small thin layer of dust off the protective glass with his hand… and smiled.

"Its of me," he said pointing to the man in the middle, "this is Ashley and that's Kaiden," he said gesturing to the woman and man respectively.

"Friends?"

She shrugged, "friend is too mild of a word. We were a team."

"What were you doing?"

"Smoking."

"No, in the picture," Liara said with a soft smile, "why are you there?"

Shepard chuckled, "my unit assisted US forces as they pushed into Iran. They were getting rowdy along the Iraq border, sending in militia fighters to stir up trouble. For a long time they were simply tolerated. No one thought much of their military prowess. But finally the US got a president with some balls and… lets just say we nipped the problem in the bud."

Liara nodded, "what was your unit?"

Shepard set the picture down and picked up another frame. Inside was an N7 badge.

"You have to understand that there wasn't any real unity among humanity. We were too different, too many conflicting ideals. The United Nations was supposed to be the answer to that problem. To prevent war and get the nations to talk things out before it came to blows. But sometimes there were problems no one nation could handle. That was where the N7 Initiative came in."

He walked over to the bed and sat down before continuing, "There were seven N Programs. The first two were purely for the rear echelon guys and intelligence. The third was for the air force, four for the navy. Five and Six were similar but could never be more different. N5s were like a normal army's infantry although they acted more like a garrison than an army. N6 was the stage before you reached N7, kind of the middle ground."

"Now, N7s… we were the best. Special Forces operatives from nearly every major nation on the globe. If you had a seat in the UN, you had at least two guys in the N7s. Were did covert stuff. So much black ink that it probably gave a few generals some brain tumors."

Laira nodded, "And are they all…" her voice trailed off but her meaning was clear.

"Dead," Shepard clarified, instantly putting up his wall again, "all of them."

"I'm sorry," Liara said tried to offer some comfort.

Her attempt was brushed aside, "your pity isn't required. I've… dealt with it," Shepard lied, omitting the fact that he was still being haunted by them.

Shepard stood up and began walking towards the door, "I'll make us breakfast, then I need to get dressed. Do you need an extra pair of cloths?"

Liara looked down at herself and took in her dirty, bloodstained rags.

"Clothing would be nice," she said meeting his eyes.

Her host nodded and motioned for her to follow him. The unlikely duo made their way to the kitchen. Liara took the same seat she had the night before.

Shepard promptly opened up a cupboard and retrieved a box of oatmeal, a set of silver wear and two bowls. He set them onto the table accordingly and headed to the fridge. He stuck his arm inside and came back out grasping a bowl of strawberries.

When breakfast was finally ready, Liara stared at the bowl of oatmeal apprehensively. She pushed around the contents with her spoon and lifted it. She watched with mild trepidation as the oatmeal sloppily fell back into the bowl.

Shepard saw this and chuckled.

"What?"

"Nothing," he said before adding, "Ellie used to do that whenever I gave her oatmeal. You just reminded me of her for a moment, that's all."

Liara watched a Shepard demeanor switched towards his usual depressive state. She was noticing more and more his ability to switch moods on a dime. One second he'd be angry, the next happy, and the next depressed. Liara was finding it hard to keep up.

Turning away from Shepard and back to her food, she lifted the spoon to her mouth, notcing the little pink strawberry stuck in the slop.

She stuck the spoon into her mouth and instant her taste buds were alit with sensations. She didn't expect that the slop could taste as good as it did and she was willing to bet that the strawberries added to that.

"That's cinnamon you taste. Good, no?"

Liara noded at began tearing into her food, although this time she took her time. She then decided to taste a strawberry by itself and instantly fell in love. She grasped the bowl and dumped several more into her oatmeal.

"Careful," Shepard said softly, "eat too many and you'll get sick."

Liara nodded but paid little attention to his warning. If there was ever a positive about her situation, it was these little strawberries. So small and yet they made all the difference in the world.

XxxxxX

Liara looked at herself in the mirror with a mix of curiosity and pride.

After breakfast, Shepard cleaned up and led her back to his master bedroom. She watched as he opened his closet door and produced a dress that went down around to the middle of thighs and a pair of blue pants. He also gave her a couple more items which he called a bra and underwear. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. Liara was grateful that despite the fact he was aloof around her, he had the decency to give her some privacy.

It took her a while to figure out how to put her bra on but it was vaguely similar to what she always used and the underwear was pretty straightforward. When she finished she decided to look at her reflection in the mirror.

"I look…"

"Beautiful," said a voice behind her.

Liara spun around to see Shepard standing there, wearing naught but a towel. She also noticed that his… hair?… was remarkably shorter. His long flowing hair on top of his head was now shaved down, as well as the lower half of his face. He looked dashing.

Liara blushed slightly and removed eye contact, "t-thank you."

It took a moment for Shepard to notice that he was staring. He cleared his throat and approached his closet. He retrieved an assortment of clothing and placed them on the bed.

Liara couldn't help but notice the vast array of scarring across Shepard's well toned body. Some looked small while others were much larger and frightening.

"Do you mind?"

Shepard's voice brought Liara back to reality and she stared at him in confusion.

"I need to get dressed. Unless your curiosity about my species involves more than just a series of question, I suggest leaving the room."

Liara smiled softly at his joke and left him to his business.

She waited patiently for him to finish in the hallway. After a couple minutes he emerged, wearing a white t-shirt and blue jeans. Liara also noticed that his bandages were changed.

"Come on," he instructed.

Liara followed him to the living room and she took her seat. She noticed that he was walking with a mild limp.

"All my records are hear. Well, only the ones that should matter to you. I also have news-paper clippings and magazines in that desk over there if you want," he said pointing to his library of records.

"What about you?"

"I have some things I need to take care of around here. The reapers did a number on the compound last night and I'm willing to bet that a few repairs will be needed. Also, the water heater is acting up so I'll need to see what's going with that," he informed her, finishing his rant.

"Shepard," Liara stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder, "you can barely walk. I'm sure that the repairs can wait another day."

Shepard annoyingly brushed her hand off, "I'll be fine. I've survived for ten years without any doctors or hospitals and I've been through much worse. Besides, the reapers will be back tomorrow and I need this place at a hundred percent."

"Wait! What?"

Shepard ignored her outcry, "Speaking of which, there's something you should probably see. Follow."

Shepard led her back to his security room. After a few flips and switches on a nearby circuit biox, the terminal on the opposite side of the room hummed on.

Sheppard motions to Liara and they approach.

"For movement outside the fence, the best position is on the roof. However, anything closer and you're better off down here," he instructed.

"He points to the far left monitor, "visual checks are here," he points to the middle, "sensor check are here. The surrounding area is monitored for changes in heat, sound and movement. If anything makes it into the perimeter, you'll know."

Liara nodded, absorbing the information she was being given. Her gaze drifted to the one monitor that Shepard had ignored introducing.

"What's this one do?"

She saw as a disturbing smile creep over Shepard's face. Shepard powered the monitor up and a series of blinking light popped up across the 2-D representation of Shepard's perimeter.

"If you can't take them out with shots from the roof or windows, use these. High explosive remote and sensor mines."

Liara looked at the screen. She was horrified to see hundreds of blinking lights.

Shepard ignores her change in demeanor, "Each of the remote mines are controlled by a command on keyboard here. Just press it and the mine explodes," he dres back, rubbing a scar on his arm, "just make sure you have the right one."

Liara nodded again and only then realized she had actually back a few feet away from the monitors. It was also when she sees a design flaw.

"What happens if they come over all at once?" she asked remembering the ferals as they charged her teammates with reckless abandon.

"They won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

She reached over and tapped in a series of commands. Before the mines on screen blinked green. Only now they were pulsating a violent red. A single word popped up on screen: Detonate. Two letter sat underneath the word; Y and N. Shepard's finger was resting above Y.

He pushed it and alarms rang all throughout the house and compound. Liara began to panic.

"In thirty seconds the entire thing goes up. The house, the yard, the hill, all of it."

"Turn it off," Liara begged.

Shepard smiles, slightly enjoying her discomfort.

"Turn it off!" she screamed, covering her ears.

Shepard finally realized that he probably took it too far and shuts the system down. His eyes don't meet hers. Out of shame maybe?

"Six years ago I captured one of them and showed her exactly what I just showed you. They know," he said trailing off.

"The best thing about history is that it can be applied to your everyday life. During the forty years before I was born, the United States and Soviet Union entered what was soon dubbed the cold war. Both nations had massive stockpiles of nuclear weapons. An unspoken understanding was created. If either one attacked, the other would respond equally. Mutually assured destruction. The attack would be rendered meaningless and so peace was maintained."

He continued, "I guess that's what you can call, peace. Even what I have with Harbinger. We have our boarder clashes, skirmishes. But we both know…"

Liara nodded once again as Shepard examines the watch attached to his wrist.

"I've wasted enough time already. You have documents to look over and I have repairs to make."

XxxxxX

Liara's hand skimmed over the assortment of tapes and discs, trying to find the right one. Her eyes darted across each label as she tried to remember how to read the language she received from her meld with Shepard.

She stopped when she found that read animal testing. She retrieved it and popped it into the tray like Shepard had the night before.

She took up her former spot on the couch and, via remote, played the log.

She was instantly shown an image of Dr. Gavin Archer. His intelligent, passionate face was now panicked and deadened. His eyes betray great disappointment and even greater fears. His eyes rise to meet the camera.

"_The Viragene appears to have no discernable impact on birds. When injected into subjects, no matter the size of the dose, the result is instantaneous death. No mutation. The same result occurs with fish and reptiles."_

_Archer coughs slightly into his sleeve. Liara notices a small trail of blood in the corner of his mouth before the former doctor wiped it away, "We've had no such luck with feline, canine and rodent hosts. All accepted the Viragene and mutated. The mice and rats exhibited no hostility when infected nor did the cats, not really. Their predatory instincts were elevated, yes, but they take a more calculated, cunning approach to… feeding. I should note that felines and rodents are immune to contact strain of the virus are susceptible to the air-borne strain."_

"_The dogs… sadly they… we've seen the most alarming results with dogs. The Viragene seems to bring out a savage instinct, a primal brutality that goes beyond mere survival. Just like the humans…"_

_A new image showed Liara video footage of a German Shepard…dog… in a strong metal cage. The screen split in two. The left side showed the dog while the right showed a microscopic view of the animal's blood cells. A scientist approached the dog and inserted it with some orange-gooey-like substance that Liara assumed was the Viragene. The time and date are present at the bottom of the screen and read (02-04-22… 0625hrs)_

_Archer narrates, "Reaper viral genetic agent introduced into normal canine circulatory system."_

_At 0702 hours the dog remained happy and playful. However, the orange reaper cells began to eat up the dog's normal red ones._

"_Just over four hours later the Viragene has eliminated any diseased or unhealthy cells in the host."_

_At 1110 hours the dog was lethargic and depressed. It ignores the humans trying to goad it into playing fetch. The reaper cells are now beginning to eat away the healthy ones._

"_Two hours later, the reaper cells turn to healthy ones for fuel."_

_At 1338 hours the dog trotted around magnificently healthy and very active. Its ears are perked up in a hyper-alert state. The dog glowed with remarkable strength although Liara noticed a eerie blue-greyness to its eyes. Its fangers appeared sharper, more savage. A scientist introduce new blood and the reapers cells grow and multiply._

"_One liter of transfused blood is introduced into the canine's system. The Viragene feeds and multiplies at a rate of .25 percent per minute. Multiplication rate increases exponentially to amunt of blood injected into host. Notable increase in muscle strength, boine mass, pulse, and adrenaline flow."_

_Twenty-two minutes later and the dog dropped in activity. It is weak emaciated, irritable and hostile. It barked and lunges at a scientist, smashing into the bars of its cage. The reaper cells are desperately looking for blood cells, devouring them like hotcakes._

"_Viragene consumes blood at an astonishing rate. If more blood is not introduced, the subject will perish._

_An hour later the dog is dying. An awful blackness in its eyes is present as it stared at the scientist around it. The reaper cells have eliminated all healthy cells. They move anxiously, searching and desperate to survive. They lose momentum and cease movement._

"_No additional blood has been given to the host. Subject terminates."_

_The dog's dead form lied motionless. A scientist carefully injects it with blood. The newly administered cells swim past the dead reaper ones. Suddenly, one by one, the reaper cells flicker to life._

"_No heart, respiratory, or brain functions in twelve hours. Fifty cc's of blood injected into expired host."_

_The dogs limbs as the blue-grayness returned to its eyes._

"_Reanimation occurs in ten point four seconds."_

_The dogs is reborn. It looks around for a moment before catching sight of the scientist holding the camera. It bore it fangs and snarled._

Liara jumped from her chair and quickly removes the tape. As s scientist herself she understood exactly what was being transpired and the implications were alarming. If this virus ever made it off-world…. Billions could die.

Liara placed the disc back into its box and placed it back amongst the others. Her eyes catch one that appears like it wasn't touched in years. The tag on it read; WATCH ME DRUNKY. It was dated March 9th 2026.

Curious, Liara popped in the tape.

_The form of Shepard appeared before her. His hair was only just growing out to the length it soon would be when she first met him. Like in her meld-dream state, he was wobbling and heavily drunk. One hand holds a half empty liter of liquor and the other holds a pistol. A dangerous combination._

"…_Nobody tells John Shepard what to do! That's because there is nobody… not one-damn-body!" he laughs, "What the hell difference does it make, anyway, right? Most people are bores, or assholes, or creeps or… people betray you, people criticize you, people steal from you. Who needs people?"_

_Shepard laughed hard in his drunken state, "People who need people are the stupidest people in the world!"_

A cry from off-screen, voices bellow in a dreadful mourning wail. Liara has heard it before on a separate tape.

"**She-pard, She-pard, She-pard!"**

_Shepard turns towards it, "Shuddup! Sons-of-bitches!"_

_He aimed his pistol and fired madly at the walls. He then hurled the bottle, shattering it._

"_Fuck. What'dja do that for Johnny? That was the last bottle of scotch. Stupid," drunk Shepard chastised himself._

_He placed the gun flush against his own temple. Pulling the trigger, the gun sounded off with an annoying click. Empty clip. Shepard found this hilarious and broke up with laughter._

Liara shut off the tape and placed it snugly it its home. She spotted another although this one did not reside on the shelf. It sat with another on the small coffee table, adjacent to a series of cracks in the wood furnishing.

She put it in and was welcomed by the sight of a woman a child playing around with a watering hose. She smiled at the sound of Shepard's happy voice and typical home-made movie shen-

"What are you doing?"

Liara spun, instantly rising to her feet. Shepard stood in the threshold of the room, staring at her accusingly.

"Turn it off," he ordered.

Liara did her best to salvage the situation, "Sh-she was beautiful."

"Turn it off, Liara," Shepard ordered attempting to compose himself.

"What happened to her?"

"TURN IT OFF!" Shepard hollered.

Shepard dashes over to the TV and accidently pressed the button. The image wont go away. Angry, disturbed, he frantically tried to shut it off. Finally, he yanked the plug out of the wall.

Without turning to address Liara, Shepard uttered, "Don't do that again. Ever."

Liara makes to leave the room with the excuse of needing to use the bathroom. On the way out she stole a glance at Shepard, with an attempt to apologize. But he isn't looking at her. He just stares, looking at his reflection on the blank TV.

_**Author's Note  
>Hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next one should be up within the week, I finally got those vacation days I've been pining for. Next chapter will be another flashback and introduce out other main character.<strong>_

_**Thank you for the reviews and stay tuned for Mass Effect Infection Chapter Eighteen!**_


	18. Chapter 18

**MASS EFFECT INFECTION**

Sorry about the lack of updates. I've recently started another project called _For Courage, Duty and Honor_, a Mass Effect story starring an N7 and his companions during the Reaper war. The character was submission to another fic called _Galaxy At War: N7_ by _iBayne_. I ended up writing a back-story for that character and as such it had taken up a good portion of my free time. So sorry about that, I just wanted to reiterate my claim that I will finish this no matter what.

Mass Effect is owned by Bioware and EA

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Shepard Residence<br>March 9th 2032**

Liara was beginning to worry. Ever since her actions with the video disc Shepard had barely spoken a word to her. When he did it was in short sentences and it was to either order her around or tell her to get out of his way. If there was ever a point when she felt that she wasn't welcome it was then.

After the incident, Shepard had informed her that they were heading out into the city to search for supplies, something that brought fear to Liara's heart. She wasn't exactly keen on the idea of heading out there and made sure to make her opinions on the matter known.

Liara found herself in Shepard's garage and stood by the hood of his humvee while the human veteran filled the tank up with freshly scavenged gasoline.

"Shepard, what if there are more of those ferals out there?"

Shepard stopped what he was doing and turned to address Liara, but his tone was that of a person talking to a slightly mentally challenged child, "the reapers don't come out during the day. They're photosensitive. The only things we have to worry about are the wildlife and the Familiars."

"What are Familiars?"

"People who are becoming like the Reapers. At that stage they can still handle the sunlight but they're still sensitive to it. If they stay too long in the sunlight they get sick, deathly so."

Liara nodded in understanding as Shepard continued to prepare the humvee. Once ready he told her to enter and she did as instructed. Shepard disappeared for a moment into his house before returning with his rifle.

He placed it in the backseat before taking his place at the driver's seat. He turned the key and Liara felt the engine rumble. She watched as Shepard pushed a few buttons on the small box near the rear view mirror and the garage door began to open.

Before driving off, Shepard took a second to place a set of sunglasses on his face. Liara was confused until they exited the shade of the garage and into the morning rays. The asari winced as her eyes struggled to adjust.

They drove in silence for about an hour. She wanted… needed, to ask Shepard questions but his demeanor still seemed semi-hostile. She wisely decided to keep her mouth shut and simply watched as the scenery of war-torn San Francisco passed her by.

As such she began to get lost in thought.

She began to think of her mother, for some odd reason. She began to draw from her memories of her childhood and the park her mother would take her to by their house. She remembered playing in the dirt and pretending to dig up artifacts. She would pretend that ordinary rocks or discarded trash were immaculate and priceless treasures.

The look on her mother's face when she discovered Liara's actions was still etched in Liara's inner eye. And yet, despite all the reprimanding and words of disappointment, the next day Benezia had bought her a history book. The book itself didn't contain any knowledge she could find on the extranet but it was the thought that counted. It told her that Benezia loved her although in her own way.

Liara chastised herself for being so stubborn. Their last conversation had ended with harsh words and regrettable actions. Benezia wanted Liara close, offering her a place in Asari politics but Liara wanted to keep doing her work on the various dig sites she was sent to.

Right now, she would trade anything just to see her again. To tell her mother that she was sorry. That she understood where Benezia was coming from.

The thought made her glance at Shepard who was keeping his attention on the ruins before him. All the regret she was feeling at that moment, was this what Shepard was feeling all the time? Regretting every action and moment? No wonder he was the way he was.

Unexpectingly, the humvee suddenly stopped to a screeching halt. Liara, thrown from her thoughts at the seemingly random action, looked around in confusion.

"What's going on?" she worriedly asked.

Shepard regarded her for a moment, almost as if he was surprised at her presence, "we're here."

Liara was suddenly embarrassed for asking such a silly question but ignored her feeling and exited the truck.

"So why are we here?" she inquired as she glanced upwards at the tall imposing building they were parked in front of. Two entrances led into the darkened underground parking lot while a curved drive way passed before the main entrance. She also noticed the giant red plus sign inside of a white circle above the main doors. Due to her meld with Shepard, she knew what it was but couldn't think of the human word for it.

"I'm low on medical supplies. This hospital has plenty of spare ones nobody is using anymore. I go in and get what I need then we go," Shepard answered as he attached a flashlight to the end of his rifle.

"That simple?"

"That simple. Although, there are things that are hiding in the darkness so I'd like to be as quiet as possible."

Shepard led her to main doors but before they could enter he turned to her.

"This could be very dangerous. Depends on what is living inside. You can wait outside if you want," he stated.

Liara shook her head, "I'm going. I'd like a weapon to defend myself with though."

Shepard nodded and reached behind his back and pulled out a concealed weapon. Liara was startled to see him handing her the pistol Nihlus had given her the night when she first arrived.

"Where'd you get this?" Liara snapped as she snatched the pistol away from Shepard.

"Found it when I found you. Its like nothing I've ever seen before."

Liara stood there examining the pistol for any blemishes while Shepard waited for an explanation.

When the pistol appeared to be fully functional, Liara primed it. The armed pistol gave off a small whine, indicating that it was activated.

"Let's go," Liara said avoiding Shepard's glare.

Seeing that he wasn't going to get any answers, Shepard slowly opened the hospital's lobby doors and stepped inside, simultaneously turning his flashlight on. Liara activated her omni-tool's own flashlight and began scanning the darkness for anything remotely hostile. She turned rapidly when she heard Shepard slightly chuckle.

"What?"

"That thing on your wrist," he said softly, "I was wondering what that was."

Shepard continued into the darkness, his rifle at the ready. Liara made sure she was no less that two paces behind him, flinching at every little noise she heard.

Desperate to ease her growing fear she began to explain her omni-tool, anything to keep her mind occupied.

"It's called an omni-tool. It's a multi-purpose manufacturing device as well as a portable computer. There are a variety of uses, both civilian and military. Military omni-tools can hack defenses, decrypt computers, or repair other things of a mechanical nature."

"Sounds useful," Shepard whispered as he listened to Liara as well as staying alert for Feral or reaperfied dogs.

The duo soon found a map of the building on a wall. Shepard scanned the map with investigator like eyes until he found a spot that read YOU ARE HERE. Shepard traced a path from that spot to another that read STOREROOM.

"Okay, so we take a right, then a left, down two flights of stairs, and another right and we're there."

Liara followed as Shepard took off down the hallway, using the memory of the map to guide him. When they arrived at the stairwell, Liara paused, unsure whether or not to follow Shepard further into the dark depths. But not following him meant she would be stuck here alone. That was out of the question so it seemed that she really didn't have a choice.

She aptly wondered how Shepard had done this himself for nearly ten years.

Their descent went off without a hitch and encountered nothing save for the ruined halls and the ever present darkness that seemed to physically press down on Liara. She was growing more and more claustrophobic with each passing second and silently begged for Shepard to hurry.

As luck would have the storeroom door was locked. Shepard cursed this fact and contemplated on how to open the door and still remain silent.

After several unbearable minutes of silent contemplation Shepard finally shrugged and kicked the door in. The sound echoed through the abandoned halls of the hospital. A chorus of screeches and roars filled the once silent atmosphere, almost as if the hospital itself was responding to Shepard's intrusion.

"We should hurry. Ferals aren't all that smart but it won't take them long to figure out where we are."

Liara seethed with anger, "did you really have to kick the door open?"

Shepard barely paid her any heed as he began filling his backpack with the vast array of medical supplies in the small storeroom, "it was either that or stumble around in the dark until we found a key."

The pitter patter of the ferals reverberated all around her as Liara waited for Shepard to finish. When he finally did, he didn't even motion for her follow, opting to simply bolt off in the direction they came. Liara wasted no time in following.

Roars and howling echoed all around. The atmosphere itself had changed as well. While the darkness was certainly foreboding before, now it seemed outright hostile.

The two of them ran through the halls, abandoning any stealth or caution. They needed to leave as soon as possible. The darkness knew this too and once they climbed the stairs and reach the main lobby, it presented their first obstacle.

A feral blindsided Shepard as soon as he stepped into the lobby. The two fell to the ground. The feral was clawing and biting anything it could and Shepard was doing his best to avoid ending up as dinner.

"Liara, go! Run outside!"

Liara hesitated; Nihlus' voice suddenly replaced Shepard's.

"_Liara go! Run_!"

Liara shook her head and sent a wave of biotic power at the snarling feral. The abomination suddenly found itself floating in mid air for a moment and with the wave of her hand, sent the creature flying into the wall. The resulting crack of the feral's neck caused Liara to get a bit squeamish but she suppressed it and helped Shepard to his feet.

"What was that?" he asked, catching his breath.

"I'll explain later, we need to go," she reminded him.

Shepard nodded. He wiped away the blood seeping from a fresh cut on his face, took a moment to pick up his rifle and chamber a round.

They resumed their charge towards the refuge of the sun. Every so often Shepard would stop to dispose of a Feral that had stumbled into view. The sounds of the feral's footsteps were growing louder and louder.

Finally Liara could see the light from outside and the doors that present the last and final obstacle to their plight. However, just as they reached the doors Shepard stopped in his tracks and felt around on his back for something.

"Aw fuck," he cursed.

"What is it?"

Shepard paused and handed her his bag of medical supplies, "wait for me outside, I dropped something. If I die… everything I have is yours. Just don't let the mustang sell for anything less than twenty thousand dollars. It's an antique."

As Shepard took off back into the darkness, Liara found herself rooted to the spot dumbfounded. It was only the sight of a feral that made her turn and run outside.

She didn't stop running until she reached the truck. She through the bag into the back seat and turned to stare at the menacing hospital in anticipation.

Liara cursed in her native tongue, "bastard didn't give me the keys…"

She could hear the muffled sounds of Shepard's rifle going off every couple of seconds until it stopped suddenly. She began to fear he was dead until Shepard, along with a swarm of ferals, came bursting through the second story window. As soon as he landed Liara raced over towards him, her pistol brought to bear. Thankfully, he was the only one to reach his feet. The ferals though began to writhe in pain as the sun began to burn their skin.

Mercilessly, the two began shooting each one dead until their pained movements stopped and all they could hear were the howls of anger the ferals inside cried out.

Liara approached Shepard and quickly slapped him in the face. When she took a step back, she noticed that he was sporting several new bruises and a couple tears in his clothing. His rifle was strapped to his back and he was holding a short sword covered in red blood in his hand.

"You bastard! If you thought you were going to die, you could have left me the keys!"

Shepard nursed his cheek, "if I thought I was going to die I would have. Not once did that thought cross through my mind."

Liara crossed her arms over her chest and placed her weight on her right foot, a look that Shepard seemed familiar with, an angry woman. It seemed that no matter the species the females always found a way to chastise the men.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yup," Shepard said, ignoring her gaze as he placed his machete back in its leather scabbard, "this machete was a gift. And I am rather fond of it so reserve your judgment for someone who gives a flying shit."

Shepard walked back towards his humvee, limping slightly. Liara took a few moments to collect herself as she eyed the feral carcasses as they smoldered in the open sunlight, before following as well.

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Golden Gate Park<br>March 9th 2032**

When Shepard and Liara arrived at Golden Gate Park, Shepard caught sight of his first alien space craft. To Liara it was returning to the scene of some violent crime. It felt dirty, like a stain permanently etched on her soul. But her melancholy was eased by Shepard's reaction. It was quite comical in fact.

First came the shock and denial. He couldn't fathom that what he was looking at was actually a space craft. Second was the guilt of knowing that, since he had been coming to this place for nearly ten straight years, that dozens of lives were lost and there was nothing he could do to help, a similar feeling he had when the reapers first began their conquest. Third came the anger of the ship desecrating the site when so many of his fellow humans had died in one of the most bloody battles to happen on American soil since the Civil War. Fourth came the loneliness of remembering the fact that besides Liara he was alone. He was the last of his kind and with his eventual death humanity would truly be gone.

Finally after a couple minutes of calming himself down, he began to come to terms and accept the sight before him.

Liara had watched this transition with a slight smile on her face. The whole process literally took two minutes and twenty two seconds. First Shepard was shocked, then angry, then depressed, then calm. It was odd when he suddenly turned walk away from the wreck and towards a small white bench.

Without uttering a word, Shepard sat down on the bench and seemed to be staring out into the distance, deep in thought.

Liara turned away from Shepard and began walking towards the wreck, remembering in full detail everything that happened. She found the spot where she had been set down after the crash and talked to Wreav. She found where the krogan was killed; an orange stain was all that remained.

She entered the wreck a little apprehensive at first but then remembered that Shepard said that the ferals only came out at night and right now it close to midday meaning she was in no danger.

Liara simply looked around and the vast array of broken electronics and twisted metal. She was so lost in thought she didn't notice the figure drop down from a hidden area. With her back turned to the approaching figure, Liara bent down and picked up a discarded holo-pad. Sadly the machine was dead and had a giant crack right down the middle of the screen. Maybe if she-

The sound of a shotgun being pumped made her freeze, "eat this you bosh'tet," said a slightly mechanical voice.

Liara was trapped in fear for a millisecond before the words the figure spoke finally reached her brain, "Bosh'tet?"

Liara turned finding herself face to face with a shotgun. Holding that shotgun was the familiar sight of a young quarian's purple visor.

"Tali?"

The shotgun dropped for a moment as the quarian studied Liara's face, "Liara?"

Suddenly the shotgun was put back to her face, "Are you one of them?" Tali accused.

Liara shook her head.

"You better not be," the quarian said expressing her severe exhaustion as she suddenly succumbed to the sleep she must had been denying herself in the name of survival.

XxxxxX

All of this went unknown to Shepard as he stared off into the distance. He wasn't sure why he kept coming back here. When everything was falling apart, Golden Gate Park was supposed to be the rally point for every military personnel in San Francisco. Orders were that if you got separated simply return here and you'll get help. Shepard summarized that this was mainly the reason he set up his own rally point here. It was familiar in a way and in troubled times, most people return to the familiar. That could also be said for Shepard and his home.

Sure in the beginning there were more defensible locations. And adding all those upgrades he painstakingly added took up a lot of time and energy. But Shepard couldn't fathom a feral or a familiar setting up camp in his house, desecrating the place with their presence.

After checking his watch, Shepard decided that he spent enough time there and made to stand, ready to return home and resume his preparations for the Reapers attack tomorrow.

But when he did stand he felt something crunch under his boot. Moving his foot aside he found himself staring at one of his old leaflets. During the first year he had used them as a desperate plea to anyone still alive. Shepard smiled at the irony of that action and the uselessness of it.

That was when he saw something that was out of place.

Written with a terrible hand in the bottom corner of the page read a simple three word sentence.

_Where are you?_

For a moment he began to think he had permanently gone crazy. He was also tempted to look around, expecting Ashley or Kaiden to appear at any second. But nothing came.

But no, it was there, right in front of him. He then noticed that the entire bench was littered with the leaflets. They were all crudely tapped or nail down. All had a variation of the same message.

_Where are you?_

Shepard can only stare in disbelief, exhilaration, terror, and suspicion. He suddenly began ripping the flyers from the bench, frantically gathering them. One held a much more thorough message.

_I have tried for days to meet you. Where are you, Shepard? I am alone and need your help. Are you for real?_

Shepard felt a shiver run down his spine. He darted over to his backpack and produced a pen and ran back to the cleanest of the leaflets, scribbling down a message.

_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I should have been here every day. I will be here tomorrow, I will. 12 noon, when the sun is highest in the sky. I am real. I will help. I am here._

Shepard signed his name and taped it back to the bench. He stood up, making a cone out of his hands and put them to his mouth.

"I am here! I am here!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

His voice echoed throughout the city.


	19. Chapter 19

**MASS EFFECT INFECTION**

Everything Mass Effect is owned by Bioware and EA.

On a side note I've been reading on possible plot lines for Mass Effect 4. Each one sounds utterly unappealing because they all revolve on events that have already happened in the Mass Effect timeline. Examples being, First Contact, Krogan Rebellions, Rachni War and even the fall of the Protheans. We all know how they all end so to me it sounds like a waste. I would like to see a plot line that continues, not Shepard's story, but about what happens with the galaxy now that the Reapers are gone. Does the Terminus gain power now under the iron fist rule of Aria? I don't know but I would like to see. Let me know what you think.

Above all else, enjoy the story.

**CHAPTER NINETEEN**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Shepard Residence<br>March 9th 2032**

_Another alien…_

That was all Shepard could really think about on the way back to his home. Well, that and the possibility of another human being alive. It had been closer to ten years since he last saw another living person that wasn't reaperfied or on the way.

As such he was in a rather good mood and surprised even himself when he allowed Liara to bring the new alien, who she called Tali, back to his house.

When he got his first good look at this new alien, he thought to himself that this is what an alien should look like. There wasn't anything about the… _what did Liara call her? Damn it, I should have paid better attention_… alien that looked remotely human. There was no way she could have been some sort of reaper mutation like how he assumed Liara was when he first saw her.

Three digits on her finger and toes, legs that bent at a weird angle, and that exo-suit that it wore… there was no mistake. This was an alien.

Upon arriving, Liara didn't even bother asking permission to bring Tali inside. She scooped up the young quarian girl in her arms and brought her into Shepard's living room, setting her softly on the couch.

Opening her omni-tool, Liara began a medical diagnosis. What she saw horrified her.

Tali should not have been alive. There was an infection swimming through her blood stream with absolutely zero defense from her body. Liara knew that quarians had weakened immune systems but this was ridiculous.

Tali suit was damaged as well. There was a small crack on her visor, her suit ripped around the torso and arms, and… was that a gunshot wound?

"Goddess…" was all Liara could utter.

"What?" Shepard asked.

"She's got an infection. Another day, hell, maybe even in another hour and she would have died."

Shepard nodded, "good thing you found her when you did."

Shepard left the room and then reappeared five minutes later. In his hands were a syringe and a vial of anti-biotics. He handed them to Liara and left once again without another word.

Liara accepted the gift and began to search for a way to inject her friend with it. After a couple minutes of searching she found a small circular ring on Tali's thigh. Liara instantly recognized it as the quarian's emergency injection port.

Liara inserted the syringe into the vial and sucked up some of the clear liquid inside. She tapped the needle gently to rid it of any air bubbles and carefully administered the drug.

When she opened her omni-tool again, she was satisfied to see that the drug was having the desired affect. She knew Tali wasn't going waken for some time so she decided to go see what Shepard was up to.

**One Day Later**

Surprisingly, the reapers did not show up the night before. Shepard had sat like a statue in his upper crow's nest simply watching the horizon. Nothing came. When it became too late, he departed and headed back downstairs where Liara sat next to Tali, like a nurse, ready for any sign of trouble. Judging by her appearance it was safe to say that she had spent the entire night at Tali's side.

"Is she going to be okay?" Shepard inquired.

Liara nodded, "yes, in time. But the infection was persistent. I almost lost her last night but that medicine you gave worked wonders. What's it called?"

"It's called medi-gel. It was invented twelve years ago by a guy named Dr. Bryson. It was _supposed_ to be the miracle drug, putting everything before it shame. That's before Archer got jealous and made his own."

"How does it work?"

"I don't know the science behind it but what I do know is that it is an anesthetic, disinfectant, and a clotting agent all in one. Once applied, the gel is designed to grip tight to flesh until subjected to a frequency of ultrasound. It is sealable against liquids, most notably blood, as well as contaminants and gases."

"Sounds… useful," Liara said surprised.

"Yup, we –humanity- made a lot of advancements throughout our history."

"Didn't one of those advancements cause all of this?" Liara said in regard to the situation.

Shepard chuckled, "life isn't without a sense of irony."

As the day continued, Shepard began disappearing more and more often. Eventually Liara went to see what Shepard was up to.

Like a housewife preparing for company, Liara watched as Shepard cleaned every square inch of his home. From top to bottom, he scrubbed the surfaces clean. He changed his bedding, washed his clothes, tended to his garden; there is a manic energy to his movements. Several times, Liara asked if she cold help but he never really responded. He'd simply shake his head or grunt in her direction.

Once everything is clean, once the entire house seems to sparkle, Shepard turned on himself. He shaved his stubble down, cut his hair properly this time, and showered up. Shepard smiled at himself in the mirror. He looked like is old self again. His smile fell when a moment of clarity kicked in.

Liara followed Shepard down into his basement. She hadn't returned to this part of the house since she had woken up. Looking around she began to take in the sight with more understanding.

Shepard himself had departed to the opposite side of the spacious room. He stood near the firing range, dismantling one of the thick wire doors. Once it is off its hinges, he placed it next to a pile of lumber he had previously gathered, some metal plating, and his tools.

Liara walks up behind him.

"What's that for?"

Shepard doesn't answer right away.

"You'll see."

He turned and began moving things around in his medical area. Once he had cleared enough space, Shepard went right to work.

Not wanting to bother Shepard, Liara had allowed him to work in peace. She had waked back up the steps and took her already broken in seat next to Tali, checking her vitals again.

When Shepard returned it was close to ten thirty in the morning. He spared her no glance or words as he marched by on his way to his room. He returned wearing a new outfit. A clean shirt, bulletproof vest, and was heavily armed as well, holding a rifle, two holstered pistols and his machete which he had tied diagonally on his back. He looked as if he were going to war.

"I'm leaving, be back soon," were his words before he left.

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Golden Gate Park<br>March 10****th**** 2032**

As soon as Shepard arrived, he instantly went to work scouting out the area, checking any place a person may hide. Around the bench he then placed a series of motion detectors, making a complete radius around his position.

Once satisfied, he took his usual seat on his bench, re-checked his weapons and flipping open his laptop. On the screen, displayed before him, is the small grid of motion detectors he had just created. He quickly checked his watch, paranoid that he might have missed his promise to be there at twelve noon exactly.

11:44 am.

Shepard waited, patiently yet not exactly denying the excitement creeping over him. He isn't sure what to expect. He then reached into his backpack, pulling out a bottle of water. As he took a sip he quickly checked his equipment again to see if anything was triggered. Nothing so far, but Shepard was hopeful.

11:57 am.

Shepard's already beyond anxious. But all he can do is sit there and wait. All he can do is sit there and watch his surroundings. He has done this many times before but today is different, for obvious reasons.

The area surrounding the bench is relatively free of clutter. All Shepard can see is an overturned garbage can, some rotting garbage, and some discarded newspaper. What he doesn't see is an old Times Magazine. Shepard himself is on the cover, staring of into the distance, chin held high, looking like a super hero straight out of the comic books. The title underneath it reads:

_CAN SHEPARD SAVE US?_

12:03 pm.

Clutching his rifle firmly, Shepard spared another glance at his surroundings. But he doesn't see the pile of trash behind him move. He doesn't see the figure as it slowly climbed its way out of the rotting garbage. He doesn't see it slowly move towards him, gun in hand.

But he did feel the barrel as it was placed firmly against the back of his head.

"Don't move," the figure ordered.

Shepard can tell that the voice is female. Naturally, he did as he was told, not moving. He doesn't even seem panicked.

"Okay, asshole, now place the gun on the ground. Real slow like," the woman ordered once again.

Shepard placed his rifle on the ground. The gun firmly placed against the base of his skull.

"Well, well, well, and here I was beginning to think you weren't real."

The woman began to move around Shepard, positioning herself to face him. The gun fell away from Shepard's head.

"Oh, I'm real."

Firearms, no matter what kind, even shotguns, are not short range weapons. To fire an accurate shot, a person would need a meter or two of clear space. When Shepard acted, he had this in mind.

With the quickness of a cat, Shepard ducked and slapped away the woman's hand. The gun fired, the woman pulling the trigger in a panic. Going on the offensive, Shepard threw a quick jab to the woman's stomach. He grabbed hold of her wrist and squeezed until she dropped the gun into his waiting hand. A swift kick to the woman's knee caused her to drop to the ground. A simple backhand with the pistol and the fight was over, the woman unconscious.

Shepard, panting slightly, was finally able to get a good look at the woman.

Woman was a generous word afford to this person. She couldn't have been over twenty two. She wore loose green cargo jeans, a bomber leather jacket with the sleeves cut off, and a simple white tank top. Her head was shaved down leaving no hair on her head besides her eyebrows, allowing the tattoos that cover her body to become even more noticeable.

Picking up his rifle and holstering the girl's pistol, Shepard scanned the area again. Visually he can see nothing but to make sure he walked back to his laptop and checked the screen. Nope, she was alone.

Sparing another minute, he walked calmly over to the girl's hidey-hole. Inside he could see a tattered and worn backpack, looking like something a child would take to school. Shrugging he tossed it over his shoulder and walked back to the unconscious girl.

Shepard carefully picked her up, carrying her bridal style and strode over to his waiting truck. He gently placed her in the backseat and tossed the backpack onto the passenger's seat. Then he returned for his equipment and drove back home.

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Shepard Residence<br>March 10th 2032**

When Shepard finally returned, Liara was already waiting for him. He was slightly surprised to see her standing in the doorway of the garage holding a pistol; the same one Nihlus gave her. But in the end he could respect that level of caution, especially now that she had someone to care for.

Liara was shocked to see a girl in Shepard's arms. She had never seen a human female before, except during the meld, in the various pictures on Shepard's desk and on the walls of the house interior; but never in person. Unlike Shepard, the girl looked almost exactly like an asari. The same curves, the same feminine feature. The only difference was that the girls skin was pale, covered in tattoos. If she weren't bald, there was no doubt that she would have had hair like Shepard.

She followed him as he began to make his way towards the basement door.

"Can you get the door please," Shepard asked kindly.

Liara moved to do so but when she tugged at it, the door wouldn't budge. She heard Shepard chuckle behind her.

"No, you need to use the code. It's under the picture."

Liara, a bit annoyed that Shepard wouldn't have said something earlier, making her feel like a fool, did so and found a small numerical keyboard. She turned to Shepard waiting for the code.

"4-4-1-0."

Liara punched it in and the door responded by popping open. Shepard slowly trotted down the step, careful with his movements. When he finally reached the bottom he instructed Liara to turn the lights on. It took her a couple seconds to find the switch but eventually she did, which allowed Shepard to place the girl down on top of the medical table.

Shepard instantly went to work, stripping her of her dirty clothes. He almost glanced at her breasts but he caught himself, trying to be as civil as possible.

The next step was tending to the bruise on the girl's forehead, a result from when Shepard knocked her out. After that Shepard gently washed her face, removing all the grim and dirt that had built up on it. That was when he heard her groan in pain, a move caused by the girl's subconscious.

Shepard quickly prepares a syringe of pain killer, but when went to pull up her sleeve to administer it, he was surprised to see it covered in track marks. Looking for the culprit, Shepard walked over to the girl's backpack and dumped its contents. Sprawled out in front of him were a few cans of food, some ammunition for her pistol, a change of clothes that were already dirty, some syringes, both used and not, and a few vials of red cross morphine. Shepard could only shake his head.

"What's wrong?" asked Liara.

"Nothing," was the short reply as he hid the evidence, "shouldn't you be watching over your friend right now?"

Sensing that she was no longer welcome in his vicinity, Liara nodded and walked back upstairs. Before she reached the stairs though, she saw Shepard take a syringe and retrieve a sample of the girl's blood. He then injected the blood into a test tube and placed the test tube into a centrifuge. Then he leaned back onto a desk and yawned.

It wasn't until later that night, sitting down for dinner, that Shepard heard the girl wake up. He was in the middle of biting into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, reviewing the girl's blood work as he ate. When he did hear her, he was on his feet in a second, food and paper work forgotten yet still grabbing a sandwich for girl. Curious, Liara picked up the blood work and scanned it with her omni-tool.

Down below, Shepard walked up to the cage he had constructed earlier for this exact purpose. The girl was inside, not at all pleased with her current state. Like a rabid animal, she darted around her cage, puling at the walls. When she realized that she wasn't going to be able to tear it down from the inside, she grew angrier, screaming at the sight of Shepard and kicking at everything her legs could reach.

Shepard meanwhile, placed the sandwich on a nearby desk and took a seat directly in front of the girl. He sat there, cool and calm, waiting for the girl to settle down.

When she finally did Shepard spoke, "you hungry?"

"Let me out!" the girl shouted.

"What's your name?" Shepard inquired.

"Fuck you, that's my name! Now let me out!"

Shepard leaned over and picked up her bag, waving it before like a carrot on a stick.

"You're addicted," he accused.

The girl stopped pacing at the sight of bag, her gaze firmly locked upon it.

"That's mine," she finally said.

"Your blood is full of this shit."

"Give it to me!" she ordered.

"But your not reaperfied," Shepard continued ignoring her outburst, "your AB negative, like me, you're immune."

"I said that was mine," the girl repeated trying to get Shepard's attention, "you have no right."

Shepard chuckled, once again ignoring her, "You know that was pretty clever. That little stunt in the park… you almost got the drop on me."

"I…" the girl began but was cut off.

"What?"

"I had to make sure," she admitted, "it could have been a trick. When they first get it, they can still handle the sun. I mean, that's why I'm in here right? You needed to make sure I wasn't a familiar."

"That's right," Shepard confirmed.

"But," the girl said, approaching the small slit in her cell, "you looked at my blood. You know I'm okay. So let me out."

Shepard watched as her eyes glanced slightly over to his restocked supply of medicine. It was only a slight glance and if Shepard were any other person, it probably would have went unnoticed. Instead of adhering to her request, Shepard leaned over and picked up a sponge, a bar of soap, and a small bowl of water. He slid them into the girl's cell along with the sandwich.

"You should get washed up, you smell like shit," Shepard said stating a fact.

"Fuck you," was the girl's response.

Shepard held up a vial of morphine, "do it and you'll get some of this."

"Give it to me now," the girl countered.

Shepard shook his head, eyes narrowed, "this isn't a negotiation.

The girl nodded calmly. Then, in a fit of anger, she tossed the sandwich and the plate it was resting upon at Shepard. Shepard simply stepped to side, allowing the plate to shatter on the wall behind him. Without warning her next attack splattered Shepard's shirt with the bowl of water and launching the sponge at his face. The bar of soap went on to break a set of test tubes.

Stoically, Shepard glanced at his shirt and then the girl.

"We'll try this again later, when you're feeling more civil," he said with a smile as he calmly walked back upstairs.

"Damn you! You son of a bitch!"

Once Shepard climbed the stairs he was unsurprised to see Liara at the very top with her arms folded.

"Shepard can you answer a question for me?"

Shepard sighed, "not right now, I'm in the middle of something."

"Its important."

Stopping mid-stride, Shepard turned to fully face her.

"Fine, shoot."

"By the goddess, why would you bring a reaper here?"

Shepard shook his head confused, "I didn't."

Liara then held up the girl's blood work that Shepard had been reading, "according to this you did. I scanned it with my omni-tool. Do know what it told me?"

Shepard shrugged.

"That the girl's blood contains the exact same contagion that the ferals who attacked my team had. She's a reaper."

Without saying a word, Shepard nodded and calmly walked back into his kitchen. When he returned he was holding a kitchen knife. To Liara's shock, he sliced a small line on his forearm.

"Scan it," he aid holding his arm out.

"I… What?"

"Scan it Liara. Go ahead and use your thingy-ma-jig and scan my blood."

Liara, a bit concerned, activated her omni-tool and waved it over the bleeding cut on Shepard's arm. It only took a few seconds to get a reading but when she did, her eyes went wide and she took a few steps away from Shepard, backing up into the wall.

He was infected.

"It was positive, right?"

Liara nodded fearful that he might attack or something. But he never did, and his eyes lost all anger and impatience that they held a moment ago.

"We're all infected Liara. Being immune doesn't mean that you can't get the virus, you already have it. Being immune only means that it won't mutate."

"Am… am I," Liara tried to say but she just couldn't find the words.

"I'm sorry Liara… but you and everyone else that stepped one foot on this planet is infected."

He turned to walk away.

"Including you."

Shepard then resumed his walk back to his room with the idea of getting a new shirt. Once he closed the door however, he instantly fell back against it. Downstairs he could hear the girl as she screamed. But he could only think of Liara, who was no doubt silently weeping, and the pain he once again caused.

Shepard firmly closed his eyes, quietly fighting back his own sobs. The situation, the hopelessness of everything; it felt like it was happening all over again. It felt like a crushing weight on his chest that he oh so desperately wanted to get rid of.

Defiantly he shook away his emotions. He needed to be strong, unwilling to allow any of his guests to see him like this. He couldn't be weak, not anymore. He had to be strong. He had to remain in control.

_**Author's Note  
>Locking up the mystery girl, who I'm sure you've all figured out by now, makes sense if you understand the world Shepard is living in. There wont be any, "Hi, I'm a survivor, do you want to survive with me?" "Sure, lets be best friends!" In an earlier chapter, Shepard explains to Liara that there was no unity between the survivors after everything fell apart. It was every man for himself. People killed each other for food, guns, water, and blood… anything that they needed to survive with they took by any means necessary. And besides, the girls does say it plain as day that she only reason she attacked Shepard because she thought it was a trick and vice-versa.<br>My addition of medi-gel into the story almost didn't go through. After all, there was already a miracle drug introduced and by adding another one, things could start getting jumbled up. But yesterday I was playing my second play through of ME3 and I got to the level where you reunite with Jacob and Archer. Archer says that as a child he fantasized about growing up and making new cures for new diseases or basically becoming famous by making some magnificent achievement. What he says fit really well into my story since that is exactly what Archer does. Making his reasons for doing so, jealous that another beat him to the punch, was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.  
>And before anyone asks, no, Tali will not be unconscious forever, and yes, the other members of the science expedition (those that survived) will appear soon.<br>So I hope you've enjoyed the latest chapter and if there is anything that you what answered that I didn't bring up, let me know in the review section or just PM me. Or you could just say hi. That works too.**_


	20. Chapter 20

**MASS EFFECT INFECTION**

Thank you all for your continued support. I know my updates are sporadic at best but you've all bore with me and I thank you once again for it.  
>A while back I had stated that this was not <em>I am Legend<em> meets _Mass Effect_. Well, after some careful consideration, I have to announce that I guess it is. Whether or not that is a bad thing, is up to you.  
>I also said that chapters were going to get shorter than before and this is one of those cases. While that means that you don't get that much now, you will get more in the long run.<p>

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Shepard Residence<br>March 10th 2032**

After changing his shirt, Shepard had walked back to the kitchen to resume eating. He wore a stern and emotionless expression on his face as he passed by Liara who had indeed shed some tears. At the moment, she was sitting beside Tali, lost in thought.

As the night wore on, the girl's screams eventually became quiet whimpers. Shepard could hear her clearly as she cried. She was desperate, crying out anything in order to get her fix. Once again, Shepard made for the basement door. Just before he opened it, he let out a deep breath, composing his nerves and steeling himself for what he knew he must do.

As Shepard reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see the girl as she huddled inside her cell. She had curled up into the fetal position, shivering, and sweating despite the effect of the warm temperature of the room.

Her head rose as Shepard took his seat before her. Between sobs she managed to speak.

"Please mister…" she pleaded.

Shepard picked up a vial of morphine and an already prepared syringe.

"You have to cooperate. If you will, then I will. All I want to do is talk," he said smoothly, "and maybe ask a few questions. If you cooperate, I'll give you this."

The girl scoffed, "fucking blackmail."

"What's your name?" Shepard asked.

The girl doesn't respond. Her eyes are locked on the morphine.

"What is your name?" Shepard repeated, beginning to put the syringe back.

"It's Jack," she blurted out.

"Jack," Shepard repeated, "Is that your real name?"

"Does it matter?"

Shepard doesn't respond.

"Listen," Jack began, "it's just something I started to call myself after… well, after everything."

"Jack what?"

"Please man, just hook me up," Jack pleaded.

"Jack what?" he repeated once again.

"I don't remember alright!"

Shepard nodded, "Well, my name is John. John Shepard," he introduced.

Ever the gentleman, Shepard leaned forward to shake Jack's hand. She simply scoffed at the gesture. Then she focused her eyes back on him.

"I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are."

Shepard's full and undivided attention was on the girl, "everyone? What do you mean everyone?"

"Everyone," she repeated, "from where I come from."

"And where is that?"

"Give me the fucking drugs," she tried to coerce. But Shepard wasn't having it.

"Where," he said more seriously this time. All trace of humility was gone, replaced by a new threatening persona; a persona that caused Jack to flinch slightly.

"Someplace in North Carolina. There were ten of us living in the woods. We managed to find some dinky little cabin and we fortified it. They were nice folk, the owners, and soon we all became one big happy fucking family."

The girl lowered her head, "and then the first ones showed up. We killed them easy enough. Rachel was a crack shot with a rifle. But then more came. And more after that. We got overrun. Rachel and I were the only one's to make it out alive."

"And where is Rachel now?"

Jack's gaze hardened, "she's dead alright, now give me the damn drugs!"

Shepard continued to ignore her, "Why come here? To this city?"

"We ran into some soldiers outside of Portland. They had a base that they called Sanctuary. High walls with guards. Three meals a day with warm beds and running water. How could we say no to that? But they knew about you, down here in sunny California, all on your own."

"Bullshit!" Shepard suddenly shouted, losing his cool for a moment.

"It's true," she said holding up her right hand, "swear to god."

"So why leave?"

"Why leave?" Jack repeated, "Oh, I don't know… maybe it had something to with watching my girlfriend get gang-raped and shot in the back once they were done with her. What the fuck do you think they were going to do to me?"

Shepard suddenly exploded, "Bullshit! It's all bullshit! I've tried for years! The radio, the fucking posters, anything and everything! I even stood on my roof and fired off flares! There is nobody!"

Jack replied smoothly, "Then how do you explain me?"

Shepard didn't answer. He simply walked towards the cell, syringe in hand. Jack rose and stuck her arm out the slit.

"Thank you," Jack said softly.

"I can't find a vein," Shepard remarked.

"Yes you can," Jack said quietly, ready for the high that was going to follow, "yes you can."

Shepard finally located one and slid the needle into her arm. Once the syringe was emptied of its contents, he stepped back. Jack smiled and retreated to the corner of her cell. Suddenly her eyes flashed open in fear. Her body suddenly began to shake and an urge to vomit flowed over her body.

"That… that wasn't morphine!"

"No," Shepard stated simply, "no, its sticelenzine. They developed it for rapid heroin detox, but it'll work for morphine too."

Jack lunged at him before her stomach suddenly cramped up, "you prick!"

"It's a sever shock to the system," Shepard clarified, "but the treatment will only last for twenty-four hours."

"I'll… I'll kill you…" she said before falling to the ground, her eyes slowly receding to the back of her head.

Shepard bent down to address her, "you won't go through withdrawal and it won't be painful. You'll be asleep for most of it. There is a chance of a heart attack but I'll be monitoring you."

Shepard watched as Jack finally succumbed to unconsciousness. He then walked forward and unlocked the cell, picking her up and carrying her upstairs.

Liara watched as Shepard strode past her, the human girl in his arms, but she had no desire to ask him about it. Sure she had questions but the all paled in comparison to the one thing on her mind.

_We're all infected…_

The revelation hit home for Liara. She knew that she only survived this long because of luck but now the full magnitude of her situation was upon her. If she was somehow able to get off this planet alive, and if anyone else found out about her… condition, she would be locked up in quarantine for the remainder of her days.

Liara, for the millionth time, gazed upon Tali as she silently slept on the couch before her. Her own infection was going down, the fever it caused slowly subsiding. It would be awhile until she woke up but at least her life wasn't in danger anymore.

Liara had spent most of her time trying to fix the quarian's suit. Shepard had given her something to help. Something he called… duck tape. Liara didn't understand what ducks… whatever they were… had to do with tape, but it worked greatly in plugging up whatever tears there were. Now all Liara had to do was wait until Tali's fever went down and her suit began to repair itself. She was going to be hungry but thankfully Liara had thought ahead, grabbing a few tubes of Dextro-paste from the crash site when she had first stumbled upon her friend.

Shepard gently placed Jack onto his bed, careful as to not disturb her slumber. She was still filthy and her sweat had drenched her clothes. With no desire to dirty his clean sheets, Shepard decided he was going to wash her. He slowly took off her jacket, along with her black combat boots. Next he cut away her pants and her shirt with a pair of medical safety scissors, throwing them away. His attention was drawn to her tattoos for a moment. They were somehow both beautiful and savage at the same time. As he observed he began to notice her figure and her gorgeous body. He quickly shook his head, chasing those thoughts away, trying to be proper despite the situation.

He then filled up a bowl with water, grabbing a wash cloth and some soap. After getting the supplies he began to wash her body. Her legs, her arms, around her stomach, breast, and buttocks; it was an undeniably sensual experience. But Shepard never crossed the line. He was respectful the entire time, simply doing a job.

His actions were akin to that of a caretaker. Memories of Gianna and Ellie began to flow through his mind's eye. Although he wouldn't admit it, he was once a loving husband, and a caring father. Once he was done washing Jack, he set aside his washing supplies and began to rummage through some of Gianna's things.

After a few tearful minutes of searching he finally found what he was looking for. A nightgown, all white. He slipped it on Jack's unconscious form without waking her. He then proceeded to take a couple steps back, making sure he didn't forget anything. But he can't help but notice that Jack and Gianna are roughly the same size. He can almost see her now, Gianna lying on the bed after an exhausting day at work. In a weaker moment he was almost tempted to plant a kiss on her forehead, just like he'd do to his wife whenever she got sick.

Instead of planting a kiss upon Jack's bald head, he instead knelt down next to the bed, almost as if to pray. Dutifully, he hooked her up to an I.V. and applied some medication, after making sure he had the correct dosage.

With one last thing to do, Shepard grabbed some unused pillow blankets and ripped them into sheets. He took four of them and carefully tied Jack's hands and legs to the bed frame. Shepard took one more moment to make sure she was comfortable yet secure and departed from the room.

By the time he exited the room, the sun was already coming up. Shepard was a little annoyed that he had lost track of time. Unfortunately he was going to have to put off his normal routine for the day.

His next stop was the garden. Putting on some gardening gloves, he began to pick out his best fruit from his growing stock. Unfortunately he noticed a small batch of tomatoes had gone bad. Growling to himself, he quickly dug them out and tossed them into a nearby garbage bin, noticing that he'd have to take out the garbage once he was done.

Ignoring his problems for the moment, Shepard took the harvested fruits and headed into the kitchen. Liara was in there as well, fridge ajar, looking for something to drink. Finaly she decided on a glass of water and filled up a cup. She took her drink back into the living room and resumed watching over her friend. Sitting not too far away was some reading material Shepard had given her, for when she would no doubt get bored.

Turning back to his task, Shepard deposited the fruit into a blender, adding a small amount of water and some protein powder. As the mixture blended together, Shepard went on to make some oatmeal. Instead of using the microwave, Shepard decided to cook it on the stove, making enough for Jack, Liara, and himself. Liara had told him the other day that Tali couldn't eat the same food as Shepard or her and that it had something to do with different amino-acids or something. Shepard only heard the first part and decided that he didn't need a thorough explanation on why she couldn't eat his food. To him it was just one less mouth to feed.

Once the food and the drink were done, Shepard informed Liara that breakfast was ready and took Jack's meal into the bedroom.

When he arrived he saw that Jack was already somewhat conscious. Shepard placed the meal on the nightstand and gently undid her bonds, lifting her into a sitting position. Like a father with a newborn, Shepard began to try and feed her. But when he brought the spoonful of oatmeal to her lips, Jack simply spit it back out.

"We've got to get something in you," Shepard smoothly informed her.

Jack, half awake and wanting nothing more than to return to sleep, nodded. Shepard reached over and grabbed hold of the protein drink, bringing the straw that was extending from the pink liquid to her lips. This time she drank, but only taking two small sips. She attempted a third but was asleep before she could suck it up. Once she was back to being unconscious, Shepard returned her to her prone position and retied her restraints.

Nodding to himself, Shepard set the meal down and pulled up a chair. To pass the time, he began to flip through a medical journal, the sage like pages informing him of any complications that might arise and how to counter them.

It was around midday when Jack began to convulse. But Shepard was prepared for this. He calmly set down the journal and administered a counter agent into her IV. Within seconds, her breathing and movements returned to normal. Rubbing his eyes, Shepard took back he seat and resumed reading.

Later that night, Shepard and Liara both watched the sun set down over the horizon atop of Shepard's crow's nest. The vast array of orange, red, yellow and blue was marvelous, almost peaceful. But Liara knew in her heart that it was just an illusion. All the beauty of the day was just a mask that covered the planet's true hostile nature in the dark. They stood there long after the sun set, watching the horizon.

Shepard had a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes as he stared out into the distance.

"Have you gone? Have you?" he said to himself. The reapers had yet to show up since Shepard rescued Liara and he wasn't totally convinced that they'd simply leave him be.

"Are thy gone?" Liara asked.

"I don't know," he responded, "it could be a trick or he moved on. When a food supply becomes sparse, the reapers tend to get nomadic."

"Shepard," Liara began.

"Yes?"

"About what you said… about us all being infected," Liara started, "how could that be? I mean how can everything get infected with out coming into contact with someone who is?"

Shepard understood, "think about. What is the one thing that nearly every living organism needs to do?"

Liara thought about that. Every organism needed to eat. It was the transfer of energy from one living creature to the next that made life even possible. Every thing needed …

"It went airborne, didn't it?" Liara asked in the one of a statement.

Shepard only nodded.

"How? You said it was viral. I watched the tapes and nothing ever mention the virus jumping."

"It didn't happen over night Liara. Like every virus, it eventually adapted to the situation it found itself in. And the virus that Archer used was extremely durable as well. It was supposed to be impotent, unable to do harm. But life finds a way and the virus did to. Somehow certain conditions were met and the virus infected and attached itself to the cells that lined the respiratory tract. When the infected subject would breathe, or cough, it would send the virus into the air where it would then attach itself to air droplets. It was several months after the Viragene went global when the first few cases began to pop up. People who had no direct contact with the infected were getting sick. Soon that evolved into what you see before you."

Shepard finished his monologue by picking up his coffee and taking a sip. Liara meanwhile was trying to wrap her head around things.

"How do you do it?" she finally asked, "how can you stay so calm despite everything?"

Shepard sighed, "I have my moments, believe me. But I needed to overcome my doubts and my fears in order to survive. The same thing you have to do too if you want to live."

A small blinking light began to flashed on Shepard's laptop, a sign that Jack was beginning to waken. Shepard began making his way back downstairs but at the last seconds told Liara to lock up the hatch when she to would head down.

Heading back into his bedroom, Shepard immediately began checking Jack's status. He checked her blood work, her blood pressure, her pulse, and her pupil dilation. Once satisfied, he went ahead to remove her IV and the binding on her right arm. As she slowly began to return to consciousness, He sat her upright with a bowl of rice at the ready.

His every attempt to feed her ended in vain, Jack shoving the bowl away every time.

"I know you're hungry," Shepard stated.

Jack was starving, she knew it. But she wouldn't let him feed her, mainly out of pride. It was one of the few cards she still had left. With her one free hand she snatched the bowl away and began to take large gulps of rice.

"Not so fast," Shepard warned, "eat too fast and you'll get sick… again."

Listening, Jack began to eat at a much slower pace. That was when she noticed that she was clean and that her clothing was changed.

"What did you do?" She asked.

"You were filthy," Shepard shrugged.

Angrily, jack tossed aside the bowl, rice flying every where. To avoid getting anything on him, Shepard jumped a few feet back. He really didn't want to have to change his shirt again.

"Did you enjoy it?! Give me a little bubble bath did you? Did you like my body?"

"Eat," Shepard said trying to get off the subject.

"Did it turn you on?" She accused, "did I get you hard?"

"Stop," Shepard said, raising his own voice slightly.

Jack the began to observe her new outfit, "who's is this? A sister? Mother? Grandma?"

Jack smiled devilishly and spoke in a sultry voice, "Mrs. Shepard?"

Judging from Shepard's reaction, Jack can assume that she had guessed right.

"Ah, I get it," Jack began chuckling, "Clean me up, dress me like the dearly departed. Then once I pass out, you have a quick fuck for old time's sake. Was I any good? I'd like to know."

"Stop it!" Shepard exploded.

Jack simply laughed harder at his outburst. In a fit of fury he snatched her arm and tied her back up.

"Bondage? I'm into it. Was she?"

Without sparing another word, Shepard claimed the bowl, the journal and the medical supplies, ferrying the out into the hall. When he turned back to close the door, Jack had one last taunt.

"What's the matter can't get it up?"

Drawn by the sounds of an argument, Liara discovered Shepard a few minutes later, sitting outside the door to his room, staring off into space. Without saying anything she took up a seat next to him. Following his eyes, she can see him staring at a picture on the wall. It is of him, Gianna and Ellie, posing for a family picture.

"You miss them, don't you?"

Shepard, with a tear falling down his face, nodded.

"What happened to them?"

Oh how he wanted to. He wanted to cry, to mourn his family's passing. He wanted things to return to normal, when life went on in its dull inevitable way. He wanted to wake up to his daughter watching morning cartoons in the living room and his wife cooking up breakfast. He wanted to be able to go outside and star at the stars without something creeping up behind him with the objective of tearing his throat out. He wanted his nightmare to end. He wanted all the regret and pain to end.

He just wanted it to end.

But something inside him prevented him. He could not cry. He could not mourn. Some invisible mental wall had built up inside of his head over the past ten years. It left no room for sorrow, no room for pity or mercy. All that was left was that blind drive to continue, to survive.

Shepard pushed away the bowl, the journal and the medical supplies and rose to his feet. His egs moved on their own accord and led him towards his security room.

"Get some sleep Liara."

Without another word, he closed the door and disappeared from view, leaving Liara alone in the hallway with nothing to do besides wonder what was going on inside of the survivor's head.

Liara too rose to her feet, collecting Shepard's neglected items and ferrying them into the kitchen. She placed them gently onto the kitchen table and walked into the living room, falling into a chair and letting her exhaustion finally consume her.

_**Author's Note  
>As of 12-05-12…<br>I made some changes to the end of this chapter. It seemed completely out of character for Shepard to suddenly spill his guts like that. Let me know if this is a step in the right direction.**_


	21. Chapter 21

**MASS EFFECT  
>INFECTION<strong>

**CHAPTER TWENTY ONE**

I do not own _Mass Effect_ or _I Am Legend_. I am simply a humble nerd who enjoys the shit out of them.  
>I also made a slight change to the previous chapter's ending. Go reread the last bit before continuing. It's nothing drastic but I felt that it needed to get done. So go back one page and let me know if it's better or worse.<p>

**Earth  
>San Francisco, CA<br>October 20, 2022  
>Shepard Residence<strong>

San Francisco was on fire.

Every time the sun rose, it unveiled some new level of destruction. The inhabitants of the city have been living in perpetual fear for the past several months, but each morning some new level of horror reveled itself. Buildings have been ruined and burned, their valuable contents looted and stolen. Fires that had raged during the night were only just being attended to. Military helicopters and jets flew across the sky, vigilant in their patrols. Tanks, humvees, and troops, marched down the streets, weapons raised and ready to kill.

Gianna stood in her living room, watching another convoy of troops pass by. Her teeth chattered along the ends of her finger nails, a sign of her anxiety and her nervousness.

The streets were nearly deserted save for the military. Another fleet of helicopters passed overhead, the sounds of their rotors were nearly deafening.

Dusk was on the horizon, along with the mandatory curfew. Gianna raised her arm to check her watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. Finally a sound turned her attention back to the window. The familiar sight of her husband in his N7 body armor made her sigh in relief.

Shepard practically hurled himself into the house in a state of sure panic. He turned rapidly, locking the door. Sparing a moment to take of his helmet, Shepard hefted and bulky bag onto the counter.

Gianna was surprised to see her husband still outfitted in his combat armor. Whenever he returned home, he would always make sure to change. His reasoning being that he wanted his family life and his work to remain separate. The fact that he had neglected to change worried Gianna.

After taking a couple seconds to compose herself, Gianna adopted her usual 'angry wife' pose and demanded, "Where have you been?"

Shepard didn't answer, moving to shut the curtains and lock the windows.

"You have a phone for a reason," Gianna scolded, "I've been trying to call you for the past hour!"

"Is the kitchen door locked?" Sheppard asked sternly.

"What?"

"Is it locked?!"

When Gianna nodded, Shepard turned back to his bag and opened it. Gianna was startled to see a rifle, a Russian made Kalashnikov, with several clips of ammo and a gas mask.

Shepard deposited the contents onto the counter. Curious, Gianna picked up the gas mask.

"What's this for?" she asked but the realization dawned on her almost as soon as she asked it.

"Oh my god… John, did it jump?"

Shepard glanced and his wife before nodding.

"And what's with the gun? They're shooting anyone with weapons that aren't military."

"I am military," Shepard clarified, barely acknowledging his wife's questioning as he began to strip and clean his own rifle.

"But I'm not. If they see this they'll think it was mine."

Shepard once again ignored Gianna's concerns.

"Where did you get this anyway," She said lifting it up before Shepard snatched it away.

"Where is Ellie?" Shepard asked concerned.

"Asleep," Gianna answered.

"How is she? Is she-"

"John!" Gianna shouted interrupting Shepard.

"What?!"

"Where did you get this?" She repeated.

"I took it from the armory. Things are getting bad out there. Jacob... he died last night."

"Oh my god, how?"

"He got swarmed. We tried to get to him but there was just so many of them. Ash put a bullet in his skull right before they devoured him," Shepard said with a shaky voice.

"Oh Jesus, John I'm sorry," Gianna tried to comfort.

Shepard brushed her away, "there's talk of abandoning the city."

"Then what are we still doing here?" Gianna asked, "why not leave ourselves?"

"Gianna," Shepard started trying to be calm, "if the virus went airborne then nowhere is going to be safe. There are already reports of infected cases popping up all over the country."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try!"

"What the hell do you want me to do?!"

"I want you to protect this family. Like you said you were doing when you reenlisted!"

Shepard scoffed, "just shut up Gianna."

Both adults began to walk from the room but were stopped when they saw Ellie standing in the doorway. She just stood there, watching, with dark glassy eyes. She looked emaciated, and clearly infected. A wave of guilt washed over the child, thinking that their fighting was her fault.

"Daddy, I'm scared," she whimpered.

As Shepard went to embrace his daughter, he was startled to see her suddenly faint. Grabbing hold of her, he quickly carried her into her bedroom.

**Several Hours Later…**

The night was no longer quiet. There were sounds coming from all around the outside of the house. The interior itself was dark as well, Shepard having shut down the lights as to not draw attention. A loud crash told him that their neighbor's house was just broken into. Making his way carefully to the window, Shepard peeked outside to see a group of infected charge through the broken down door.

A series of screams followed and then all was quiet. Gunshots in the distance signified the military's presence somewhere in the city. But they were too far off to do any good.

Making sure his weapon was still armed, Shepard made his way towards his daughter's room to check up on her. Her condition was deteriorating fast lately, something Shepard was still blaming himself for.

But when he cracked open the door he was surprised to see that his daughter was not there. Panicking, Shepard darted down the hallway and into his master bedroom.

At first he was relieved to see Ellie, cradled in Gianna's arms. But then it grew into shock once his eyes adjusted through the darkness.

"Gianna…"

Shepard could see Gianna, sitting on the edge of their bed, with Ellie in her arms. But what horrified him was that he can see his daughter sucking the flowing blood from a cut on Gianna's wrist.

Gianna, eyes wet with tears, tried to explain to her horrified husband.

"She needs it John. And I'm not afraid. What is meant to pass will pass."

Shepard could only close the door in shock. But a crash from the back door shook him from his reverie. He pulled back the bolt on his standard issued M7 Assault Rifle and charged forwards.

He instantly spotted three reapers, their eyes darting around for their next meal. Their mouths were covered in bright red blood, no doubt from the neighbors. The smiled devilishly when they spotted him and charged forth.

"Fuck you," Shepard spat as he opened fire.

**The Next Morning…**

Shepard could only stand and watch as three men from the CDC in full hazmat gear walked into his home. A fourth man, dressed in the same combat armor as Shepard, was not too far behind, an M7 cradled in his arms and a bright red N7 patch on his chest.

The CDC men instantly took note of Ellie's dead form on the couch. Shepard himself stood in the corner, just watching with inattentive eyes. The N7 turned to Shepard, his voice electronically distorted from the helmet.

"Sir, is it just the two of you?" he asked.

Shepard nodded slowly, "yeah… my wife died a couple days ago."

The CDC men unceremoniously placed Ellie into an all black body bag, zipping it up tight. They carried her outside to a waiting garbage truck.

Shepard took note, as he followed them out, that the entire street was clustered with garbage trucks, cleaning up all the dead bodies and the remains of those that were literally torn apart the night before.

The distraught Shepard, somehow maintaining his composure, made for his own humvee.

"I'm coming with you," he stated.

The N7 shook his head, "I'm sorry sir, but that is not authorized."

Shepard rounded on the young man, "Son, I outrank you ten times over. If I say that I'm coming with, then I'm coming with. Do you get me?"

The N7 quickly stood at attention and saluted, "Sir, yes, sir."

"Besides, I'm AB Negative. I'm… Immune."

Shepard climbed aboard his truck and started it up. He followed them until they arrived at the Army Golf Course. He watched, horrified, and disgusted, as the garbage truck backed up the edge of a pit and dumped its contents. Hundreds of black body bags fell in. Another Hazmat suited worker approached, a long fireman's hose in hand. He opened the nozzle and sprayed the entire pit with gasoline. Another, carrying a torch, walked up once the other was done, and tossed in his burning stick. The flames the followed raced up into the sky. Shepard watched in horror and sadness as the crimson light reflected off his skin.

His hanging low, Shepard climbed into his truck and produced a bouquet of flowers. With the fire still raging, he got as close as he could before tossing them in as well.

"I'll love you forever Ellie."

Defeated, Shepard walked back into his truck and headed home.

Upon arriving, Shepard immediately went straight for his room. Before opening the door, he knocked as a warning.

"Gianna, it's me."

Shepard slowly pushed open the door and gazed upon his wife, huddled in the corner with the rifle Shepard had stolen in her arms. Her skin was as pale, drenched in sweat, and her hair had begun to fall out. She was clearly infected.

"Are they gone?"

"They're gone, sweetie."

Eyes full with tears, Gianna collapsed into her husband's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Shepard slowly eased the rifle out of her grip.

"It's okay now," he tenderly stated.

"Is she…"

"Ellie's gone honey. It's over for her. She's at peace," he said calmly despite wanting nothing more than to weep for his daughter.

Gianna sobbed even harder. Her wails echoed in the room.

"Oh god, John, just kill me. Please kill me," she begged.

In the back of his mind he could almost imagine it. Placing his own forehead against hers, softly kissing her once more before he ended her life with a single bullet. But as quickly as the thought came, Shepard drove it away. It would probably be best, all things considered. But the idea was ludicrous to him.

"I can't do that. You know I can't do that."

The two just sat there, Gianna weeping into her husband's shoulder while he did his best to remain in control of himself.

**Earth  
>San Francisco, CA<br>October 28, 2022  
>Cemetery<strong>

The night was full of noises and sounds, all of them hostile. Shepard and Anderson moved silently as they crossed through the cemetery.

In the distance, the two could hear and see the military presence at the cemetery's entrance. Judging from the sounds of shouting and gunshots, the soldier's were in the middle of holding off an attack from a large group of infected.

"We need to hurry Shepard," said Anderson as he softly coughed.

Shepard ignored his mentor, friend, commanding officer and last remaining member of his team. He couldn't dwell on anything but his current objective. Everything else was too painful.

The attempt to quarantine San Francisco had ended in a complete disaster. The N7s had been more or less wiped out and Shepard's team fell one by one. Only he and Anderson remained. With all hope lost, Shepard and Anderson returned to Shepard's home, desperate to get Gianna and the leave the city themselves. What they found was Gianna, lying in a pool of blood. Crimson streaks flowed out the corner of her mouth, out the sockets of her eyes and out her ears. The infection had claimed her. She must have succumbed to the infection at some point during the night. Shepard loathed himself for not being with her when it happened.

But at least he could put her to rest. That was why he and Anderson were making their way through the desolate cemetery. No one in their right mind would be out after nightfall. Not without at least thirty to forty others backing you up. But during the day, the cemetery was closed off and not even Shepard, with all his prestige, could get enough clearance to get through. Besides that, if anyone else knew that Gianna had died from the infection, her body would be burned… _just like Ellie_… and that thought was asinine to Shepard. He wouldn't let her be desecrated in that way.

He'd deal with the consequences later.

The gunshots in the distance were slowly beginning to subside, getting drowned out by the loud painful screaming. The infected were breaking through the lines. Shepard wasn't going to fool himself into believing that any military forces would remain in the city after tomorrow.

After making their way deeper into the cemetery, Shepard finally found what he was looking for.

The crypt had belonged to Gianna's mother before the elder woman passed. The woman was killed in a drunk driving accident and there was little to bury once the coroners showed up. As such, most of the old woman's property was passed onto her only daughter. The crypt being one of them.

Shepard gently placed Gianna's dead form onto the ground. He had previously wrapped up in a large blanket and then tapped it all up with duct tape. The only part of her that was exposed was her face, which Shepard had previously cleaned up, making it look as if she was just taking a long nap.

With eyes obscured with tears, Shepard propped open the crypt doors, taking notice of the two angel statues as they stood stoically beside the entrance, chins and arms lifted towards the heavens, awaiting the return of their savior. Nearby, Anderson stood vigilant, keeping his eyes opened for anything amiss.

"Two minutes Shepard. We got two minutes till zero time," Anderson reported.

Shepard, finally succeeding with opening the door, nodded, "I know."

Scooping up Gianna in his arms, he carried her inside the crypt, placing her gently inside of the lone coffin. It would be here that she would reside, her nightmare finally over. Ellie and her would finally be reunited, held firmly and gently in the bosom of their god, spending the rest of eternity in sweet bliss. Shepard smiled, seeing their joyous faces in his mind's eye. He smiled, knowing that they were in a better place.

"I love you Gianna… always."

Shepard wiped away the tears from his eyes and exited the crypt, closing the door. With eyes firmly locked on the door, Shepard retreated to Anderson's side.

"Shepard," Anderson began, placing a warm and friendly hand upon his protégé's shoulder, "I'm so sorry. But we have to go."

Swallowing all his sorrow, Shepard nodded, clasped his helmet back onto his head, and followed Anderson as they made their way back into the burning city.

**An Hour Later…**

Shepard and Anderson stood upon on a hill overlooking San Francisco.

Their trek from the cemetery back into the city proper was blocked on nearly all routes. Infected were out in droves, the savage army unleashing hell upon whomever and whatever they found. The military tried to hold on but their retreat was inevitable. Right now Shepard could see their helicopters and VTOL transports as they ferried any one still remaining out of the city. Those that were left behind were now left in god's hands.

"Zero time," Anderson uttered in a voice akin to a whisper.

There are 192 nations on the planet, not counting the dozen or so territories and colonies. The virus was reported to be legally in one hundred and eighty three of those nations while the rest had obtained it through the black market. When Anderson had told Shepard that the virus went global, he didn't really put it into perspective. But now, watching as the infection strolled through San Francisco without any one left to defend it… that put things into perspective.

Shepard's attention was sent skyward as the sounds of aircraft breaking the sound barrier zoomed over head.

"My God," exclaimed Anderson as he looked onto the city, his voice distorted and almost mechanical by his helmet, "they're fire-bombing the city."

The two N7s watched as F-17 Tridents passed over the city, dropping Napalm onto it. They watched as the fires climbed towards the sky, spreading outwards in all directions. Other F-115 Stealth Bombers dropped other assortments of bombs, each devastating and terrifying in their own way. In the distance, away from the fire and bombs, were the sounds of gunfire and Shepard could make out the muzzle flashes from the weapons. San Francisco, a place he called home for nearly five years, had turned into a warzone.

Slowly Shepard took off his all black enclosed helmet and let it drop to the ground. He unlocked his armor clasps and felt as, one by one, the pieces of his Mk II combat armor fell apart.

He continued to stare, the light from the fire dancing across his face and reflecting in his eyes.

He can hear Anderson's labored breathing next to him, but his attention was focused on the city. The buildings, once tall and proud, were now reduced to ruins. The streets were consumed by civilians trying to flee and soldiers trying to buy them time as the infection plowed through it all with the force and fury matched only by the ancient gods of old.

"Any word on the Hills District?" Shepard asked.

Anderson shook his head, "No… Mikhailovich isn't responding to any of my comms. Neither is Hackett."

Shepard's head hung low. He knew it was a long shot but he had to ask. Hackett and Mikhailovich were the only surviving members of the N7 program, each controlling nearly a hundred soldiers apiece. Sure there were other teams stationed in various hot spots around the globe but the bulk of their forces were stationed here, in San Francisco, Ground Zero. Without either of those two, the N7 program was finished.

The sound of Anderson pulling the hammer back on his pistol caused Shepard to turn. His gaze fell to the pistol that his mentor was handing to him. Shepard's hand grasped it and he claimed it as his own.

When Anderson pulled his own helmet off, Shepard could see the beginning stages of the infection present. The elder black man's hair was falling out, his eyes were sunken back and his skin was wet with sweat.

"I need you to do me a favor," Anderson asked, his voice weak from the pain of the virus coursing through his body as it slowly killed him from the inside.

Shepard already knew what he was going to say, "you know I can't do that."

Anderson dismissed him with the wave of his hand, "we both… we both know what is going to happen to me. I refuse to become like those things. Grant me this small amount of mercy," he asks, his voice pleading, "please John."

Shepard can only stare into the man's eyes. His first thought rejected the idea. Anderson had found Shepard as nothing, just another lost cause in the ghettos of Detroit. Several years later and Shepard became one of the most skilled SOCOM operators the United States had in its arsenal before he left to join Anderson and help run the United Nation's N7 program.

And now he had to kill him.

"It's been honor, sir."

Anderson smiled, "make it count Shepard."

The gun fired and Anderson fell to the ground with a small hole in the middle of his forehead.

Hands shaking uncontrollably, Shepard dropped the gun, allowing it to clatter to the ground. Falling to his knees, a feeling of nausea washed over Shepard's body, causing him to expel the contents of his stomach.

And then he wept.

**Two Days Later…**

To call San Francisco a city would be an exaggeration. The military had all but abandoned the city as the towering infrastructure continued to burn. With no fire crew to put out the flames, small avoidable fires easily transformed into large unyielding infernos. Abandoned cars and tanks blocked off many streets and some of the buildings that were weakened from the bombing run had toppled completely, leaving some areas completely impassable.

For the past two days, Shepard had survived. Nothing more, nothing less. He had added some metal plating to his windows and extra locks on the doors. What would soon be a near impregnable fortress in ten years, was only now in its infancy.

The city now belonged to the reapers. And from what Shepard could decipher from his HAM radio, Las Angels, New York and DC were going to be as well. The other countries around the world were facing similar crises, with most of the major cities under siege.

But that mattered as much to Shepard as the alphabet would matter to a tree. His family was gone. His livelihood was gone. His friends were gone. His city was gone. All that remained was him. And as he pulled the bolt back on his Kalashnikov he no desire to hold that to fact.

The area surrounding him was trashed. On the inside, the windows and the doors have been boarded up, furniture moved to help bolster the metal and wooden defenses. Objects that no longer carry any importance were thrown around and now litter the ground without care. Shepard himself was seated behind a table that was turned over onto its side as a pathetic means of defense.

Unsurprisingly, with death now moments away, Shepard felt a shiver of fear crawl up his spine, making the hairs on his neck stand up. But he brushed them away with a defiant swig of bourbon. Gently placing the now empty bottle onto the ground, Shepard swayed slightly as he reached into his jean's pocket and claimed a single cigarette and a lighter. Lighting the end was trickier than it normally was and after the third attempt he succeeded, sending a small trail of blue-grey smoke into the air.

He allowed the smoke to fill his lung as the calming effects of the tobacco cooled his nerves. When the pounding and howling began to surround the house, Shepard didn't even bother acting surprised. Instead an old saw came flooding into his consciousness, making him smile. It was by Rudyard Kipling and Shepard remembered fondly of Ash rehearsing it every time the team found themselves going up against suicidal odds.

_When you're wounded and left on the Afghan plains,  
>And the women come to cut up what remains,<br>Just roll on your rifle and blow out your brains,  
>And go to your god like a soldier.<em>

Shepard was so lost in memories that he failed to notice or acknowledge the fists pounding along the outside of the house. Glass broke as arms penetrate through the windows, the shards covered in fresh blood as it flowed from the cuts the intruders received from their brutal invasion.

Finally Shepard made a move. He picked up his rifle and placed it firmly against the side of the table, taking aim at the front door. Seconds later the front door broke down. Several reapers filed into the room, all eyes on Shepard. But they don't attack and neither did Shepard. Shepard's eyes scanned the lot of them. He counted eight maybe nine, all muscular, all fed and all ready for war. His eyes stop scanning when they fall upon the leader's face.

_Gianna…_

The barrel of the rifle lowered slightly as Shepard stared into Gianna's dead eyes. She was still dressed as he left her; in her all white nightgown. But now the garment was ruined. Dark splotches of what could only be blood covered her lower chin and the top half of her chest. Slash marks cover several places, ripping the fabric to shreds. Evidence of her no doubt bloody rise to power.

Her hand reached out for him, her teeth bared, "John…"

Shepard mustered up whatever courage he had left and took aim once again, emanating something akin to a whimper.

_I knew you'd come Gianna… I knew…_

"God forgive me," he uttered as the reaper grouping charged.

With his finger firmly holding down the trigger, thirty two hollow point bullets screamed out from the barrel of the AK, sending bits of blood and flesh spraying in all directions.

Out of the eight Reapers that entered the house, only two remained standing. The majority were cut apart almost instantly and within the first fifteen shots fired. Only Gianna and a lone male were still upright, the former with a grazing wound to her arm and the latter with a normally crippling wound to the chest. Once they heard the sound of Shepard's rifle clicking empty they charged forth once more.

Gianna reached Shepard first, coiling a hand around his throat. The virus in her system added to her strength as she threw her former husband into the nearby wall. Ignoring the pain, Shepard's hand instantly went for the pistol attached to his leg. In one motion he brandished it, took aim, and fired at the male as it charged towards him. Two bullets struck home in the male's chest while the third bullet entered the right eye socket and flew out the back of the skull splattering the area behind it with bits of brains, bone and blood.

Before he could switch over to Gianna, she came at him once again, kicking the pistol from his hands and kneeing him in the face. With his vision beginning to fade, he screamed in agony as his late wife bit down into the soft skin above his collar bone. Another bite took a chunk from his arm as her hands all the while savagely cut into his stomach and chest.

Gritting his teeth in pain he clenched his fist and began to pummel the back of Gianna's head until finally she let go. Without taking a moment to acknowledge the pain, Shepard let loose with a swift kick to Gianna's knee. The sound of her leg bone breaking nearly made him vomit, but Shepard didn't let up.

Grabbing her by the hair, he kept her head upright as he landed punch after punch to her face. When Gianna's face was finally broken, bloody and bruised, Shepard let her fall to the floor.

Painfully making his way over to his discarded pistol, Shepard turned to see Gianna staring back at him.

"Why…Why John…" she choked out, "Why… not die… Come be with us…"

Shepard slowly made his way over falling to his knees halfway there. Somehow, Gianna rose to her feet. She took a few sluggish and painful steps forward as she once again attempted to resume her attack.

Shepard aimed the pistol at her, "what is meant to pass will pass," he quoted.

With out mercy he fired two bullets into Gianna's chest forcing her to stagger backwards into the wall. Her hand slowly made its way up as she felt the wound, almost in disbelief.

"You… you shot me?"

Shepard didn't answer and he aimed once more and fired. This time the bullet struck her in the head, causing the woman's skull to snap back in harmony to the bullet's inertia before whatever twisted life was left in her faded and she sank to the floor. Eyes firmly locked on Shepard.

Damning… accusing… blaming…

Almost as if some otherworldly presence was present, Shepard could almost make out a voice as it whispered something into his ear.

"_You cannot escape us, John Shepard. You will be ours forever."_

**Earth  
>Sol System, Local Cluster<br>San Francisco, CA  
>Shepard Residence<br>March 11****th****, 2032**

…_Pain… Fear… Death… Death… Regret… Death… Pain… Death…_

Liara was fast asleep when she was suddenly bolted awake. She couldn't explain it but a vast array of indescribable emotions had struck her. She felt fear, pain, anxiety, and most of all… regret. Glancing around the dark room, all she could see was Tali as the quarian slept off her own infection. Nothing around her could warrant such feelings and so she decided to blame it on stress. After all, it had only been a few days since her own near death experience. It would be safe to say that she was still traumatized from the event.

Opening her omni-tool she shined her light over at the hand clock hanging on Shepard's wall. It was around four in the morning and the sun wouldn't be up for another two hours. Closing her eyes with the hope of catching some more sleep before Shepard's early rise, Liara slowly began to fall back into the land of dreams.

But when she closed her eyes all she could see was death. The smell of it, the taste of it, the feel of it. It was all around her. Suddenly another spasm of pain and fear gripped her heart. Liara rose from her chair as if standing would somehow solve her issues.

But it didn't. In fact the more movements she made the more the feelings would bother her. Suddenly it was as if she couldn't breathe, almost as if she were being choked. But when she felt her throat, there was nothing wrong.

That was when she heard the sounds of distress coming from Shepard's security room. The thought of Reapers making it in and attacking her host while he slept caused her to all out sprint towards the door.

With her body covered in a blue biotic haze, she opened the door swiftly only to find Shepard alone. Yet the man was clearly in a state misery and anguish. He was thrashing around on his back, fighting off imaginary enemies, all the while he still slept.

Liara knelt beside him, ready to offer whatever comfort she could when Shepard suddenly propped up, screaming in terror at the top of his lungs as he exited whatever nightmare was assaulting him. The fear and pain Liara had felt no more than minutes ago were blazing with a white hot fury, almost to the point of bursting.

"Shepard! Please calm yourself!"

Liara, who in a state of shock to Shepard's sudden reaction, had jumped back several feet, was at his side again, doing her best to calm him down. Wrapping her arms around him, she held him as he continued to flail. After a few moments, his brain finally realized that he was no longer in any danger and his shouts drifted off in silent sobbing.

"Shh, it's going to be alright," Liara whispered gently into his ear, holding him in a manner a mother would to a distraught child.

_The meld… there must be some link that still connects us…_

When Shepard was finally calm enough, Liara slowly let him go. But when she looked into his eyes, the wall he had so desperately tried to erect around himself now laid in pieces. All she felt now was the man he was, not what he had become in order to survive. The more she saw, the faster her heart would beat.

Both received something from their previous embrace. The meld enhancing whatever emotions the two have stirred up. Shepard looked at Liara and she looked right back. A connection never before known by either of them had formed. That bridge between them relayed an understanding no human could ever grasp and no Asari could ever learn without experience. What Liara felt, Shepard felt. What Shepard felt, Liara felt. It was a bond that was about to meet its apex.

Without warning, Shepard's lips met her own. At first Liara was too surprised to do anything but after a moment all the nervousness fell away. She allowed her body and her instinct to take control and just sat back and enjoyed the bliss. And when she finally opened her eyes to gaze into Shepard's, they were all black. And she smiled.

"Embrace eternity."

_**Author's Note  
>I just wanted to say your welcome (lol) for all those who have been waiting for that part. Hopefully I didn't disappoint.<br>Next chapter is going to be a big one.**_


	22. Chapter 22

**Mass Effect  
>Infection<strong>

**Chapter Twenty Two**

This story is not dead! I want to make that abundantly clear that I have no plans to abandon this story at all. My life as of right now has never been busier. I recently got a promotion at work, my hours nearly quadrupling overnight. I'm actually getting an apartment, moving out of my house for the second time. My basketball team just made the playoffs for the second year and it looks like we might go the distance. Not mention I'm also going to college so free time has been scarce. But I've not forgotten this nor have I forgotten any of you.

That being said, I promised that this chapter was going to be a big one. Well, due to the aforementioned reasons, this will cut down some from its original length. Quite considerably actually. But I felt that I needed to get a chapter up sooner rather than later.

So enjoy, you beautiful bastards, enjoy.

**Earth  
>San Francisco, CA<br>October 20, 2022  
>Unknown Location<strong>

Two Creatures stood atop the highest point in the city. The building's name had been lost for nearly a decade and in the grand scheme of things it didn't really matter. They held the visage of walking shadows, possessing no solid structure. They did not have eyes or ears or mouths or noses, for they required none. They both faced in the general direction of Shepard's home. Despite the great distance they could see with the utmost clarity as Liara and Shepard intertwined.

Down below, a group of ferals tore at the carcass of a dying deer. The rabid humanoids must have found the animal's lair and chased the poor creature down.

"Everything is going according to plan," said the First.

"Yes, it is as you predicted," replied the Second, turning her attention away from the primal fest below her.

The two lapsed into silence for a moment before the First turned to the Second.

"Something is bothering you sister?" asked the First in the form of a statement.

The other lowered what could be perceived as its head, "yes."

"Care to share?"

The Second took a moment before replying, "There are just too many variables. So many things can happen that would upset our agenda."

"True," the First agreed, "but then look at what has happened already. The asari could have died in the crash or died along with the rest of those when the children assaulted their camp. But she didn't. Shepard could have left her for dead but he didn't. Whether it is chance or fate or our own intervention, I cannot say. But know that we will see this through regardless."

"But… what if _she_ gets involved?"

The First let out a laugh that would cause even celestial bodies to shudder with fear, "believe me sister, she already has. Her first mistake was choosing an avatar that so closely resembles our target's late wife. Her own arrogance will be her downfall."

"As… as you say brother," the Second answered with a nod.

"Besides, you worry too much. Humanity _will_ survive because it _must_ survive."

The Second, this time more bolstered by its brother's words, nodded once more and turned back to the direction of Shepard's home.

"It will be as you say. Humanity will survive and our plans will succeed."

The First placed a comforting hand upon its sister's shoulder.

"Come, there is much to do."

With that, both creatures stepped back further into the shadows as disappeared. The planet and its inhabitants meanwhile continued on as if they never existed in the first place.

**Earth  
>San Francisco, CA<br>October 21, 2022  
>Shepard Residence<strong>

As the sun rose over the dead city the next morning, John Shepard couldn't help but feel slightly more at peace. For some reason the sun's rays felt just a little bit warmer and with that, more than a little comforting. For the first time in ten years Shepard did not feel alone and that was more than enough to bring a smile to his face.

Nearby, laying on the ground and covered in a small blanket, Liara's nude form stirred as the asari maiden slowly came back to consciousness. She slowly moved into a sitting position and locked eyes with Shepard. She can see within him that the wall he had put up was almost completely gone. It was still there and Liara doubted that it would ever permanently go away but the fact that it had deteriorated so much was a victory in of itself.

"Good morning," Shepard greeted jovially.

"Good morning Shepard," Liara replied with a smile.

With that both entered into silence, neither finding something to talk about besides what had transpired the night before. Eventually Shepard sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"So… I guess we should talk."

Liara stood, holding the blanket over herself to keep back the cold morning breeze.

"It is not necessary Shepard. What I believe happened was simply an effect from the meld."

Shepard's smile faded but only slightly, "Oh? That's it?"

Her grin growing in size, Liara walked forward and planted a small kiss upon Shepard's lips.

"No. The meld only increases the emotions the two that shared it already feel. It would not be fair to blame everything on the meld alone."

Shepard's smile returned full fold, "I see then. But the question is; now what are we going to do about it?"

Another kiss and Liara turned to grab her clothes, "We'll have to wait and see."

"Liara," Shepard's voice caused her to stop at the door and turn back to him.

"Yes?"

"I'd… like to take this slow. It's been ten years since I've met anyone that wasn't trying to kill me in one shape or form. I want to do this right. Rushing this seems like a mistake."

Liara smiled at him, "I understand completely Shepard."

Shepard smiled back, "Good. I need to check on Jack. After that I'll make us all breakfast."

The two quickly got changed and headed in their own directions. Shepard's first stop was his own master bedroom. Jack was still asleep but her rapid eye movement suggested that whatever dream she was having was not pleasant in the least. Like a doctor checking over a critical patient, Shepard checked and rechecked all her vitals. Satisfied, he turned to leave the room when the young girl suddenly bolted upright, inhaling a great gust of oxygen, as if the ability to breathe had suddenly fled her, before crashing back onto the bed, her EKG monitor going ballistic.

Without warning, Jack began to convulse, her movements were so violent that one of her hands became free and knocked the EKG over onto the floor. Acting quickly, Shepard ran to her side and untied her bonds, holding her tightly until her movements stopped. Suddenly Jack's eyes opened as she unwillingly vomited over both of them.

Ignoring the human regurgitation all over his shirt, Shepard picked her up in his arms, carried her into the bathroom and sat her next to the toilet. She retched up three more times until finally she had nothing left. The next five minutes were filled with grotesque hacks and dry heaving. Eventually Jack broke into a cold sweat. Shepard quickly retrieved a blanket from the other room and wrapped her up in it, using his arms to rub her own as he tried to warm her up. The two sat there in a pool of vomit, sweat, and tears for several long minutes.

"I'm scared…" she choked out.

"I know," Shepard replied softly as she leaned closer to him.

"I'm really scared…"

"I know," he repeated, "it's going to be okay."

Jack suddenly began to sob into his shoulder. Like the caretaker he is, he began to wash her face and freed it of the nasty substance trickling down the side of her mouth.

"Everything is going to be fine," he stated, eyes locked in the middle distance of the bathroom, not really staring at anything, and not sure who he was exactly talking to.

XxxxxX

It wasn't long before Shepard managed to get Jack to her feet. For the first conscious time she was led down the T hallway and into the kitchen. Jack walked slowly over to the kitchen table and sat down, holding the blanket tight around herself.

Ten minutes later and a bowel of oatmeal and a cup of tea were placed before her. Shepard took a seat at the opposite end, a similar entrée assembled before him.

"Liara, breakfast is ready," Shepard called out.

Jack was about to ask who he was talking to when she caught sight of Liara entering the room room. Fear took hold of her heart as she stared directly at the woman before her.

"Its okay, she's a friend," he said with conviction.

"Is she a reaper?" Jack asked with concern.

"No, she something else entirely."

Jack had no choice but to believe him. After all, why would he lie now? With an understanding amount of caution, Jack placed the knife she had grabbed once she saw Liara and placed it back on the table.

The woman approached her, her hand stretched out in greeting, "Hello, my name is Liara."

Jack simply stared at the offering with disbelief. Her own eyes rose to meet Liara's as she slowly backed her own seat up a few spaces.

"What are you?"

"I am an asari."

"What is that?"

"To you I would be considered an extraterrestrial."

Jack's right eyebrow went up in confusion, "a what?"

"She's an alien," Shepard said bluntly, "same goes for her friend lying unconscious in the living room."

Jack looked at Shepard, then at Liara, then at Shepard once more before she broke out laughing. Her amusement slowly subsided once she realized that she was the only one who found anything humorous in Shepard's words. One look at her host told her that Shepard wasn't kidding.

"My god, you're serious aren't you?"

"As serious as a heart attack," he replied before turning to Liara, "your own meal is sitting on the stove. I didn't know if you wanted tea or not so I made a cup for you anyway."

"Thank you," Liara said softly as she retrieved her meal. Without another word she exited the kitchen and walked into the living room.

Jack's eyes followed Liara's every step until finally the maiden exited the room. When she turned back to Shepard she saw that he had already begun eating.

"How long has _it_ been here?"

"_She_ has been here for the past few days. Her science vessel was exploring the planet when it crashed. She didn't tell me how, just that it did."

"Was she alone?"

Shepard set his spoon down as he answered, "One of them is unconscious in the living room like I said. She mentioned that others were with her but they got attacked by the ferals. Up until we ran into each other she thought she was alone. She found her friend inside the ship that crashed in Golden Gate Park."

"Wait a second. You're telling me that that hulking ruin in the middle of Golden Gate Park is an alien space ship?!"

Shepard nodded.

"Unbelievable…" Jack muttered as she fought her own disbelief.

With nothing more to say on the matter Shepard resumed eating. Jack, so lost in thought with these new revelations, had yet to even touch her own meal.

"You should eat, it'll help with the nausea," Shepard informed her.

Jack nodded, taking small spoonfuls of oatmeal and short sips from her now lukewarm tea. The two ate in silence until finally Jack decided to break it.

"How long have you been here?" she asked.

"Almost fifteen years. This was… _is_… my home."

"I assumed that you found it. Took it over when… _it_… happened. But why did you stay? Everyone knew to get out of the cities. They took them over."

"My home," Shepard replied with the same tone he used when Liara had questioned them during their first meal, "they can't take that away from me."

Jack nodded, looking at the defenses he had set up inside, "you… fixed it up real nice. I feel safe here."

Shepard sort of nodded in thanks.

"Don't you get lonely?" The question surprised Shepard, looking at her for the first time during the barrage of questions.

"There's a lot to do. I keep busy."

"Answer the question," Jack urged.

"Of course, how could I not. Until Liara and you I thought I was pretty much it."

Jack nodded in understanding. But she wanted to know more, that insatiable human curiosity growing like a pit in her stomach.

"I've heard things about you."

Shepard audibly sighed as his meal was once again interrupted, "Like what?"

"That you've killed hundreds of them… thousands."

"And?"

"And that you like it," she probed.

Shepard didn't reply, he just continued to gaze at her.

"They say that you chop off their heads and stick them on poles. That you cut out their hearts and eat them raw. That you rape the woman and chop off the men's cocks before stuffing them in their mouths."

Despite the ridiculous accusations, Shepard replied evenly, "where'd you hear this?"

Jack paused for a split second, "Up in sanctuary. Those guys…"

"Right…"

Another minute of silence passed by until Jack spoke again.

"Do you?"

Meal once again interrupted Shepard answered, "Do I what?"

"Do you do those things?"

Shepard stared at her with an expression of annoyance across his face, "what do you think?"

With his meal now cold and his desire to eat gone, Shepard pushed the bowel away and stood.

"I've got some work I need to do around the house. If you feel up to it, you can help."

Jack nodded as she followed Shepard back into the master bedroom. With a pang of guilt she noticed that the sheets on the bed were now absolutely ruined from her vomit. But she didn't say anything, knowing that the owner's patience was already wearing thin.

Wordlessly he handed her, her leather jacket, a fresh pair of jeans, and some undergarments. The jeans and bra were one size too large and in the end she decided to do away with the bra and wrap her waist up with two belts. When she was finally ready to go, Shepard returned and quickly threw on a fresh shirt. When he did Jack was about to divert her eyes in the name of decency but found herself drawn to the vast array of scarring that covered the man's body.

"Seems to me you get hurt a lot," Jack said trying to lighten the mood.

It had the desired effect, "Ha, you should the other guys."

With the both of the dressed, Jack followed Shepard out into the compound. The two silently patrolled the fences, looking for any sort of wear of weaknesses. Occasionally they would stop and fix some part up. Jack, forced to carry a spool of wire, followed Shepard's every step, adhering to his words when he informed her that most of the area was covered in mines.

With her curiosity getting the better of her, Jack decided to ask yet another question.

"Why stay? Why not take off? Who knows what you might find out there?"

"Exactly," was the response.

"What? Are you afraid?" Jack asked, expecting the usual prideful retort she would normally get when questioning the courage of a man. What she got instead made at least some sense.

"I know what's here. Out there I have nothing, here I have everything. You said it yourself. Here I am safe."

Jack shook her head, "I said I felt safe. That doesn't mean I am safe."

Shepard didn't answer as he climbed down from the ladder he was using to repair a piece of the outer fence.

"I think that's going to do it for today. Want to help me tend the garden?"

Jack would never expect in a million years that the man before her had one hell of a green thumb. Here was a man who had fought twisted abominations for nearly ten years and had survived. Here was a man who had witnessed the downfall of man, and survived. He was supposed to be a tough as nails, cigarette in the mouth, burly bearded man that just emanated testosterone.

And yet he was tending a tomato plant so delicately that it was mind boggling. Jack herself was picking any strawberries she saw only to plop them right into her mouth.

"I mean, there could be more like you," Jack said as she picked up their conversation up where it had been left off at, "like me even. Immune… surviving… aren't you the least bit curious? There's a whole country out there, a whole continent."

"How old are you?' Shepard asked rising to his feet, brushing his dirt covered hands on his pants.

"Twenty four."

"I'm forty two. When you're forty two you like staying put."

Shepard turned from his garden and led Jack into the garage. Shepard spent the next forty minutes checking the cars, the generator, and filling up whatever needed the gas.

"Are you going to rape me?" Jack asked still eating strawberries.

Shepard scoffed as he gave her a disbelieving look, "I hadn't planned on it, no."

"Those guys at Sanctuary… that's what they had in mind."

"I figured as much."

"Why are they like that?" Jack asked somberly.

"Who?"

"Men. Most men are like that."

"Well not me. So you don't have to worry."

"Yeah but you're… weird… you're not normal," Jack replied honestly.

"I'm not normal?" Shepard asked but noticed that she was eating at an alarming rate, "Not too many of those or you'll get sick."

XxxxxX

Pain…

Fear…

Paranoia…

Those emotions were what Tali Zora felt as she slowly climbed back into the land of the living. As usual the first thing that greeted her was the holo-displays of her inner faceplate. Each reading was giving her a similar report. Her suit was badly damaged but risk of infection was negligible. Her immune system had slowly and successfully neutralized the infection that claimed her during the siege of the crash site. As a matter of fact… it was gone completely.

"Keelah…" she groaned as a wave of pain circled her head.

Confused, Tali glossed over the last thing that she remembered. She remembered that she was trying to get some rest inside the Albatross' cockpit, seeking both shelter from the unknown creatures and a good place to allow her meds to kick in. She remembered being startled when she heard a noise coming the rear compartment of the transport. Utilizing the same strategy she'd use when avoiding a crew member of a ship she was stowing away on, Tali climbed into the nearest air duct, her small size allowing her to squeeze along until she came to a vent opening right above her intruder.

She had dropped down, ready to blast the creature away with her Scimitar, but stopped when the creature turned out to be Liara. Tali remembered the feeling of relief at seeing the kind hearted asari before her.

In fact, the last thing she saw was Liara's blue concerned face. Ironically it was the first thing she saw upon waking as well.

"Liara?" Tali weakly choked out.

"I'm here Tali," Liara said concerned as she rushed to her friend's side, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm… fine…"

"That's good," Liara said with a smile but was surprised to see Tali shaking her head.

"No Liara. That's the problem. I shouldn't be alright. My infection was fatal… I shouldn't be alive."

To Tali's amazement, Liara nodded in agreement, "Normally I would be forced to agree with you. Quarians are known mainly for their weakened immune systems and their technical prowess. But certain… events happened while you were asleep."

Right on cue, both females heard the sound of the back door opening and the muffled voices of Shepard and Jack as they conversed. From what Liara could hear Jack was quizzing Shepard on everything and the elder man was as usual, answering with yes or no answers.

"Who are they?" Tali asked reaching for a weapon that wasn't there.

Liara saw this and placed a comforting hand upon Tali's shoulder, "You needn't worry, they are friends… or at least one of them is."

The two human's conversation grew louder and clearer as they drew nearer.

"…is all I'm trying to say. Just how long do you think you'll last on your own?" Liara heard Jack say, her voice almost pleading.

"I'm not leaving Jack," was the strict reply, "end of story. This is my home. I live here. They have no right to dictate otherwise and until I'm dead and cold in the ground, it's going to stay that way."

The two rounded the corner to find and upright Tali and a relieved looking Liara. Shepard continued on his original path through the living room, barely glancing at Tali but sharing a warm smile with Liara, and coming to a stop before a desk. Then he opened the drawer and began to rummage around inside of it.

Jack on the other hand had stopped in her tracks at the sight of the non-humans. She kept her distance to the maximum, as far as the enclosed spaces of the living room allowed. To Liara it felt as if the human woman saw her and Tali as carrier of some infectious disease and that they needed to be quarantined right away.

Liara laughed inwardly. That last part was actually true.

Tali's eyes, however, were frantic, darting back and froth between Liara, Shepard and Jack.

"Liara what are these things?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"They're called humans. The one over there," pointing to her host, "is Shepard. He saved my life. The other one is Jack, I think, and I have no idea who she is. But once again, Shepard saved her life."

"They look just like the creatures in the vid from the CRC meeting," Tali said, not really paying much attention to Liara's answers.

"They are one in the same yes."

"But…" Tali stammered for her words, unsure of how to proceed.

"Liara?" Shepard's voice made her turn, "have you seen my screwdriver?"

Jack scoffed, "why would _it_ know where it would be. Hell the thing probably doesn't even know what a screwdriver is."

Shepard, continuing to pillage through his desk, replied, "Because she was with me the last time I used it. And she isn't an _it_. You best remember that."

"You left it in the garage Shepard, in your car."

Shepard's movements stopped abruptly at Liara's answer as he filed through his short term memory. Sure enough he remembered correctly.

"Of course it is. Thank you," he said in gratitude before marching off, Jack in tow.

Liara's gaze switched back to Tali, the quarian's head slightly cocked to the side before she leaned forward.

"Liara, what is going on?"

Liara smiled and placed an affectionate hand upon Tali's.

"I'll answer whatever questions you have Tali, and trust me when I say I understand that you have a lot. But you have to tell me: did any one else make it?"

Tali's head hung low and for a moment Liara feared the worst.

"After the assault, it was just me, Garrus, Shiala, Mordin, Saren and Nihlus. We managed to seal off the back of the transport and barricade ourselves inside. When morning came, the creatures were gone so we nabbed everything left over, rations, weapons, the works, and strengthened our defenses."

Tali stopped speaking for a moment and the anticipation became too mush.

"And then what happened?"

From the moment Liara met Tali, the asari knew that Tali was not naturally violent Like Liara, Tali would most likely defend herself if pushed but would never go out of her way to injure or kill another sentient being. She could assume that, as a quarian she would have a natural hatred for the geth, but Liara could see that Tali was a decent person at heart.

So when Tali spoke again, her voice filled with hate and venom, Liara did her best not to visibly shudder.

"Saren happened Liara. That bosh'tet betrayed us."

_**A/N:  
>Yes I left a cliffhanger. Why? Because they're bloody genius and I love to use them. Conversely I hate it when other authors use them in their stories so I guess I get what I deserve. I'll do my best to update soon. When, I can not say, but like I said before I will finish this story. That is a promise and one I will not break.<br>Little fun fact: this story has been going on for more than a year now so… yay!**_


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